Your Limousine Got Stuck In Traffic
by Bellatrix's Weightless Tears
Summary: Andy and Miranda encounter each other again a few months after Paris.
1. Chapter 1

Your Limousine Got Stuck In Traffic

Andy still couldn't believe it. Miranda was here. HERE. In front of her. It had been what five months' since Paris. Maybe Miranda wouldn't notice. Yeah right Miranda Priestley, Dragon Lady, the polished Coiffed silver haired Valkyrie like Editor of Runway Magazine that reduced grownups to tears with a withering 'That's all' or the gulp 'Cerulean Speech' that still made Andy still cringe, would not, not notice her Ex Assistant.

No Miranda, would never dare be affected by Andrea who was her server this lovely evening for her exclusive table, each dining companion, her guests', vetted and only approved by herself at this fundraising Gala with the who's who of Manhattan Society an Elite.

At a mere twenty thousand a plate once in a lifetime bidding by Silent Auction on Francesco Clemente Artwork to a Luxurious Weekend at an Italian Count's Lake Como Villa it was called 'My Dirty Fellini Weekend' or Valhorna Chocolate Tasting for couples, topped off with ' Midnight Kiss Goodnight Champagne and Chocolates Picnic at Versailles ' Andy's personal favourite Around The World's Capitol's Kisses Scavenger Hunt, take a selfie of yourself with your significant other kissing in random historical places and monuments searching for clues in every country Andy dreamed of visiting. Sigh that would never happen on her pitiful minimum wage.

What bored rich people do with their lives? What silly things they buy with their immense wealth. Andy had seen a fourteen year old bid on driving lessons in a red Ferrari entitled 'Tailgated and Brake '. Shaking her head, bemused at all of it. Not that she would outright refuse a years' worth of ' Godiva Chocolate ' and 'Guitar Strings' learn how to play guitar and jam with Carlos Santana or ' Bow and Arrow Cupid' Learn archery with an Olympic Gold Medallist, if she had a gazillion dollars to waste or simply throw away on frivolous. Those are just a few things she'd simply have to try.

The Feared Runway Editor would completely overlook her presence, right, it's not like Miranda Priestley noticed everything, or especially be bothered about Andrea Sachs, her insignificant ex assistant who left her in Paris during the height of Fashion Week. Positive Miranda was over it. Andy had timidly absconded, no fled like an NY marathon runner from Miranda as if her Jimmy Choos were on fire, she'd flung a company issued cell phone in the fountain while it rang with Miranda's call. Breaking Miranda's Rules always answer when La Priestley calls. No matter what or where you were. It does not matter, Miranda and Miranda's needs come first.

Even when Emily was manoeuvring crutches she always picked up. Always. Miranda's ringtone should have been Andy had once joked to Emily, be the Jaws Theme. Have some heads up warning. That comment was not very well received or remotely interested in sharing suggestion had earned her, two months of fetching every Starbucks run or as highly strung Emily had stated in a posh brummie exasperation 'You're the second assistant, the muck in role so muck in. You're the other Emily, do not make me look bad.'

While that moment in Paris, Andy had disobeyed that golden rule, having flung it like a flaming javelin and just walked. Enough was enough. Not looking back. Still surprised she hadn't been charged with inflicting wilful damage on company property. Nate had been right, so right it actually hurt, the person calling always takes and Andy couldn't give anymore. It had begun to matter, no Miranda had begun to matter, to Andy.

That was dangerous, very dangerous uncharted territory, had to end this on her terms. Before she got hurt by the Dragon Lady. Andy knew deep down, her heart would be stomped, mutilated and broken with little care by The Dragon Lady, if she'd stayed. It was simple self-preservation. Self-Preservation before it even had started or before _**'It'**_ whatever it was between them had even begun.

Andy knew on her side and only her side, there was this spark, something between them. Felt it. Andy had definitely maybe felt it a few times between them, but quelled it. Locked it down. Once thought just apt admiration for the acerbic Runway Editor who encouraged abject fear in the office and Ellis Clark Building and most of NYC, but no there was this chemistry between them. Undeniable. Almost like and Andy's thoughts on it was plain lunacy or just plain commit me to Bellevue crazy that it was sexual tension and bantering foreplay. Nigel one time had almost mentioned noticing it to his favourite _**Six**_, but hadn't elaborated further on what exactly was '_**it**_ between them he'd picked up on. Nigel had not missed the little things, small things he didn't fail to notice like sharing an elevator with a lowly second assistant, calling the fashion disaster by her name. Her actual given first name. Personalised, acknowledged by the formidable feared Queen of Fashion. It was curious he'd once observed to Andy. No one else was that close or relied on by Miranda as Andy had been.

Andy listened to Nigel's words she'd shrugged off. It didn't mean anything. Nigel had treated Andy to an impromptu lunch, of course lying at the Runway Office that he was meeting someone very special to him, so no one at Runway Magazine knew he the dapper Savile Row tailored and effortlessly attired traitor was having a bite with the infamous Andrea. If Miranda found out about his clandestine date with her _**Andr**__**éa**_ , he'd be working as Fashion Buyer at Kmart in Des Moines.

Assured very seriously, hand over silk ascot that Security have a standing order to shoot you on sight should you ever dare to enter the Ellis Clark Bldg. or make it to Runway's floor. 'Seriously Six, there are embossed folders with your image in crosshair handed out.' Poor Emily must have ATF, SWAT and Homeland Security on standby. If Andy was ever considered a serious threat to Miranda's personal safety. Earned full on giggling laughter at their table. With a slight hesitation Miranda can't issue an order like that right. Assured in all sobering eyebrow raise, Miranda lunches monthly with the Mayor and the Governor. No real limit to her influence and how far it reaches.

Nigel grinned at his favourite _**Six, **_boy oh boy she'd come a long way a really, really long way from frumpy librarian lack of style, Oklahoma and NJ had a baby out of wedlock fashion sense. All grown up fashionable now and wearing chic black biker jacket. Brooding and East Village cutting edge. Didn't dare broach as to the why, why did his plucky little _**Six **_leave without notice or a reason. A really good reason like my therapist advised I not continue on in your employment Miranda or I'll have a nervous breakdown because the prescription and valium aren't working anymore. Little Miss I can do anything had just abandoned Miranda.

Truly _**Six**_ was more than fabulous, in truth actually brilliant at her job, sure it wasn't writing about inoculating starving orphans in Honduras, but she was valued, everybody knew her in the office down to the mail guy and her sunshine optimism was quite wholesome and contagious at Runway. Most importantly one question bugged Nigel greatly 'Why did Andy decide to leave Miranda?'

So suddenly and without any explanation. It was all very strange leaving Miranda assistant less and stranded in Paris during Fashion Week. That was cold and downright cruel to do even to the Dragon Lady. Frankly _**Six **_didn't have a cruel malicious bone in her body, so why the sudden deserting Miranda? Thrown aside like yesterday's Manolos.

What Andy had done by quitting and not being fired, was now legend in the hallowed halls of Runway and for that mutinous act to have gone severely unpunished was strange like a prelude to the apocalypse almost. To Nigel's complete astonishment, Miranda had not vindictively blackballed poor _**Six**_ from publishing forever in revenge. Or writing for Alaska North Circle Weekly on Malamute Breeding. No payback or twisted retribution.

Nigel envisioned poor naïve _**Six**_, being called by a recruitment agency in Miranda's pocket and be assured she had a job at The New York Times' and discover the position was as The Editor's much needed permanent till golden senior years dog walker/poop scooper. Hadn't reaped her revenge on _**Six**_.

It was too weird. On the plane, Miranda had been almost heartbroken by Andréa's departure but that was because of whining womanising ewwy Stephen and the upcoming divorce right?

What was it with them both? What had happened between Andy and Miranda exactly? What had gone so wrong? To cause this final separation. Andy was so uncanny with anticipating Miranda's every need and they were almost… like a… a couple. A couple. OMG. Nigel's face registered dawning comprehension, Little Miss Optimism, Fashionably Challenged Ohio Six and the Miranda Priestley. NO. No that wasn't possible. Species that vastly different do not mate and domesticate.

Blurted it out. 'Six tell it to me straight did you and Miranda ever… what I mean is… I know she valued your skills kiddo and both you and Miranda seemed to be getting closer.' Blushing at the sheer absurdity, Nigel stammered. 'Forget it, never mind Miranda's got us all run ragged thanks to you resigning so dramatically…now tell your Aunty Nigel all your brilliant plans of surviving the unemployment line in the scary old big apple.' The very idea was too out there to say out loud. Miranda and Andy a couple. That wasn't even possible. Nigel shut his mouth, it was ludicrous. Andy had hairy chef boy Matt or Ryan or whatever his name was. Avoided asking anything more of Andy about her cowardly fleeing, who picked at her plate, 'I have an Interview at The NY Mirror tomorrow.' Nigel toasted her gallantly. 'Wonderful Six go forth and forge writing for the Hoi polloi '.

Glancing at his Cartier, he had to get back. Kissing Andy on both cheekbones warmly. 'I'll call you but not ever at work!' Nigel paid for both of them and left Andy with a cheery wave goodbye.

That lunch had been five months ago. A lot had changed for Andy. Put aside dreams and shelved them permanently.

Whatever the something was, between Miranda and herself, Nigel had almost implied, Andy had sensibly extinguished. It could not happen. Could never happen. Be Realistic, Sachs. So incompatible to begin with, the stars were against them, to even be together, not that they ever were together, together, aside from age, monetary earning or lack of on Andy's meagre part and still owing a student loan that she'd repay at sixty at the rate she was earning, those were more than obvious barriers keeping them apart. Surely, they'd be an utter recipe for flirting with disaster.

Andy was Peace Corps, Organic, Oxfam and Pottery Barn. Miranda was Harry Winston, Maxims and Bergdorf's. No Sachs, never act on that feeling ever. Plain cuckoo crazy. Out of her league in every way. Miranda would grind you to pieces if she knew what her ex-employee really felt. For her. The L word. LOVE.

Andy wanted to crawl under a table or no be swallowed up whole by the carpet beneath her. Mortified, no try utterly and completely humiliated, there was no way to exit or leave without being noticed and like a shark smelling blood, Miranda had indeed noticed. Noticed her.

Particularly since Andy was their assigned waitress/server this evening. Icy violet eyes narrowed as her long fingers circled her champagne flute, running her fingertip over the rim, Andy remembered what that look meant reigned fury.

Andy was going to strangle Alaire, her Catering Manager, why hadn't she looked at the name of the party assigned to the table, then she could have fled in time, simply swapped and hidden. Too late. Here goes nothing. Breathe Sachs, it's just Miranda. Gulp.

Choosing to ignore Miranda completely was the safest option, silent treatment best standard operating procedure around her ex-Boss. Pouring each glass, rushing away.

How dare Andrea . Thoughtless. Irresponsible. Miranda quietly seethed, what to do in such situation, being served by a former second assistant who only five months ago ran away. Fled from the candid opinion that stings curmondgeous nasty as a viper Dragon Lady. This insufferable girl brought out her worse side. Nettled and challenged but yet hadn't you once enjoyed her boldness. Shown no fear of retribution, or mollified capitulation even in the first moment of meeting each other.

Andrea hadn't a clue of how to take or for that matter navigate the complexity that made up Miranda? Hardly tiptoed around her, Emily was always in a constant state of nervous anxiety around her idol but not the new girl.

Her Andrea, always watched, watching her with those insipid golden cognac honest unjaded eyes. Unnerved her, Undid her. What was wrong with her? Her Andrea! She wasn't a Hermes bag to carry about. Still not knowing really what had possessed her to write a recommendation, a personal one.

How come Andrea had got under her skin? Why the smart fat girl that captivated her so. Intrigued her, piqued her interest. Few ever did.

Sipping her flute, she could do so many things to her former lowly assistant, have her removed from her regal presence or fired in front of her. That would be more than fitting. Fulfilling payback. A well-earned comeuppance, Andrea well deserved. It would only take one word but yet Miranda couldn't do it. Why couldn't she? What stopped her from wanting to hurt Andrea deeply, viciously wound her the way she'd been. In truth it hurt, deeper than she'd ever admit, that Andrea hated her, no despised and loathed her was a lot to digest.

Half of her wanted to get up from this table and leave, to flee as quickly as possible away from Andrea Sach's sanctimonious unblemished measurement of right and wrong.

Andrea's eyes still haunted her, those hurt and mesmerizing doe like eyes in the limo looking at her as if she was evil incarnate had halted Miranda momentarily, than the glib comparison had sealed the deal. They were very alike had been the wrong words to flatter with. What she'd done to Nigel had earned Andrea's complete and utter disgust. Then everything had gone pear shaped.

Miranda's bitter part remained firmly rooted at her table. Seated, no Miranda Priestley did not turn tail and avoid facing anything thrown at her full on. By the end of this grand evening Andrea Sach's would explain herself and her rash actions to her former boss. Have a much needed answer as to why?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Emily was about to have stroke at um around twenty five give or take a year or something. What in bollocks, hell freezes over, the world is ending was Sachs doing here. Her career was over, simple as that. Everything was against her now. It was any wonder she was not in full blown histrionics.

Lady Fate was slapping her roundly and soundly like a prize fighter, it was like being surrounded by a never-ending street of Dunkin Donuts and Krispy Kreme's. All welcome inside but her. That was a recurring nightmare for Emily many an evening. She'd talked often about that terrifying night terror over with her therapist and still neither could decipher what it meant.

Remain and keep calm. One step at a time. One will get through this and survive. Somehow. Squeezing her eyes shut like an incoming car crash. Wishing this calamity away.

Miranda had seen Sachs. Miranda really did take in everything and everyone. Emily maybe 4%. Do not panic Charlton. Easily able to be handled. Everything has not gone to hell in a hand basket. Not yet.

How to shoo their waitress which was Sachs away. For good. It was against all etiquette to deliberately banish your server for the evening. It would have to be done. Pull up your sleeves Charlton and do it. Maybe Emily could request to the Maître'd that Miranda didn't care for Andrea's ethnic accent. It was too hard to understand. Miranda being British it was too late to require a translator. Yes that would have to work. Miranda was known for her instant dislikes and eccentricity.

Page Six lived on Miranda's whims.

If she didn't act fast it was a train wreck waiting to derail, the Board of Trustees were at this table. If Sachs embarrassed poor Miranda amongst them and by her side Irv Ravitz. That vile little man made Miranda vitriol. There would be hell to pay. Heads would roll. Starting with Emily's. Dear naïve Andrea if she so much as upset Runway's Editor in Chief, Andy would be asking in her new job, will you be having fries with that at a fast food chain. Clearly she liked working in the food service industry.

Thanks to selfish Andrea's sudden appearance, the cause of Miranda's glacial stare, someone would be fired tonight and that someone would be her. Could feel it, a sickening creeping up on her six sense that 'Sunshine Sachs' would cost her, her dream job. Tomorrow morning no doubt, she'd receive a pink slip, be marched mortified to HR.

Ever since she was, once a slightly plump and riddled with acne and Orthodontic Headgear, eleven year old growing up in the Berks, ridiculed at her day school every day by names like Enormous Emily or Eat Everything Charlton, she'd dreamed of Paris. The designer couture, the culture. The snotty ambience. Now she'd never go to Paris, be snogging that proverbial pipe dream goodbye. Goodbye forever.

Wave that one thing she wanted most out the window. It would be back to using her sneering posh accent to greet averagely attired tourists on tour bus, sob, at Harrods. NEVER again.

Shuddering have to go and live with Mum and Dad if they'd let her return home and of course that would depend on if Mumsy would convince her Father to pay for her BA airfare home. Preferably First Class or Business. Economy would not do. Then she'd no doubt be given a two hour lecture on being a dreamer stuck on this side of the pond, penniless and jobless. Hopelessly taking after Mum's side of the family instead of doing better in her A and O Levels. Would have made her more practical and down to earth. Should never have given in and bought her a subscription to Runway on her eleventh birthday. Appeased and over indulged her living in a fantasy world.

Then upon her return, her dear mum would want to fatten her up with comfort food she hadn't let pass her lips since seventeen, telling her in all honesty she resembles a famine victim and by Boxing Day, she'd be the size of miserable and fat Sachs. All set downhill for Em, right before her eyes, scraping out a living simply clothed in Selfridges and Top Shop.

Resolutely determined this freckled strawberry haired size 2 would not stand for it. Nothing would or could upset Miranda tonight of all nights. Least of all Andrea Sachs being here.

Pang of guilt trickled into Emily, Andrea hadn't completely backstabbed her over getting to accompany Miranda to Paris Fashion Week five months ago. In all honesty, Andy had kindly offered and sent her all of the couture she'd been generously riddled down with, it was for the best really, that Andy came to her senses, there was no way Sachs would ever be able to squeeze into any of it and wear it. Sachs was enormous like a baby orca. It was designed for magnificent and miniscule. Not hippos from Cincinnati.

Still had been gobsmacked to the point of fainting that Miranda herself had written a recommendation for Andrea. Personally. Miranda didn't do things like that for nobodies like Sachs. It was all fine and good because Emily didn't even know where the office supply room was or how to load the paper into the printer.

Sachs had royally messed up. Her name was whispered in hushed tones in the office so quietly, least Miranda hear any unfortunate clacker or office minion converse about the one that walked out on Miranda and survived. Scandalised at the cruelty in the beginning of Paris Fashion Week. That brainless ninny was lucky Miranda didn't make her swim home to Manhattan.

It was all so surreal and odd. Andrea had been a one of a kind. Not really meant for Runway Magazine. For an American, one couldn't help but like Andy even when you didn't want to. Though Emily would be loathed to ever admit it. Andrea's ways did charm.

Em, smiled at how pitifully ignorant Andy was about fashion, not knowing how to spell Dolce and Gabbana. Greeting Donatella Versace and cooing over her toy dog. Offering Milk Bones. Slurping soup. Wearing sweaters clearly knitted blindly without bifocals on or pulled off a dead travelling harmonica playing hobo. Almost giving Miranda an apoplexy over the word 'Stuff '.

It was miracle the girl lasted the first day. Most tried to sue HR or be on the line sobbing to be rescued from the Dragon Lady's clutches. Andy, the woefully dressed disaster had? Lasted, even been helped along by resident fairy godmother of frocks Nigel. Nigel had to teach her how to dress decently, a duty to the Magazine, loyal readers would stop subscriptions if they saw that worked here. For Emily it was like sitting at her desk across from a bag lady before her much needed make over. Thank god for Nigel's craftsmanship.

Then Paris happened.

Emily had never dared to get the accurate truth. That was between Miranda and Andrea. Only them. There'd been downright unbelievable rumours that Andy was a corporate spy for Irv Ravitz, a ploy to break their Editor, Irv tried anything to seize and wrest control from Miranda and also one disturbing one, that Andrea was an item with Jacqueline Follet. Emily sniggered, Shagging Jacqueline that was not possible. Miranda had been particularly crueller that day especially the new girl had asked 'Who's Andrea? From Paris office is she? ' That presumption and nerve to ask Miranda about the last assistant had earned the new twit by an hour, errands of needing that thing I told Mario to have in his next shoot, where is my coffee and I want that new designer I met last year in Milan to be on my line, in 35 minutes. That poor thing lasted till after lunch.

Still Miranda hadn't called anyone else Andrea, but still referred for the last few months, each new second assistant that didn't last as 'Emily.' Strange indeed. Andrea didn't deserve this and Emily hated to be viewed as shallowly insensitive but it had to be done. For Miranda's sake and her own future employment.

Emily steeled herself. Somehow with set jaw determination, she'd make Andrea '' Bloody '' Sachs leave. Immediately.

**Author's Note: Thank you. Thank you jh728 for being my first review!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Irv Ravitz always went out of his way to try to ooze congenial charm to his most exasperating Editor in Chief, Miranda Priestly. That irascible woman always one upped him. Every plot to dethrone her, she got wind of, that shrew of a Dragon Lady had seen right through his scheming with Madame Jacqueline Follet and urbane Christian Thompson a few months ago. Been so close to firing Miranda, the bane of his life.

The Ice Queen had survived the coup d'état and apparently had nine lives.

Manoeuvring the Board to her advantage like the master chess player she was, had caught him off guard. The Board were always charmed with Miranda's glamour and class, had them eating out of her hand. Especially tonight. Every Trustee were bemused and thoroughly enchanted with her coy masterfully fluent Parisian French translating the set menu of eight courses, which Irv did not speak. Miranda was gathering loyalty. Right in front of him. Bold nervy move Miranda. Throw the gauntlet. Bring it on.

Offering to play host to widower Signor de La Rossi during his time here and when he visits again in spring. Irv annoyed both by rudely joining in and conversing on topics neither cared for. Vulgar brutality of a blood thirsty sport called pugilism.

The textile mogul of the world's finest cashmere, wanted to see the Costume Institute with Miranda as his guide. Kissed her inside palm as she promised him a unique tour in colloquial conversant Italian. Always enjoyed Alessandro's playful flirting. Name the day.

Observing them. Good luck chum to the Italian stallion. The Ice Queen will just have you by her side as a pawn to wield, because Alesandro de La Rossi paid millions for ads in Runway, Irv mused.

Miranda Priestly, Irv well learned was cold as a cobra, mind as sharp as a razor had no dirty laundry to blackmail her with. Her Ex Husband Stephen hadn't shared much of any juicy scandal to use against her with Irv's information gatherer. Hell she baked, for Dalton's Annual Summer Fair. Nothing sordid to unseat her with. Unflappable.

The Ivory Beauty was very deceiving, like siren drawing you in, to your impending doom, he didn't envy any of her ex's. Poor Ivy League Wasp Pukes.

Not that Miranda was hideously deformed considering her twisted distemper, possessed enviable looks well preserved without the need of plastic surgery or Botox, but one would need ear plugs to block her grating voice out, sleeping pills for a needed induced coma to be sleeping beside her and be a qualified Lion Tamer to survive any bout let a known carnal one with her. To rabid for his taste. Irv preferred to keep his balls to himself and not have them scalped off and jarred by Runway's Resident Medusa.

The Runway Editor doted on her twins, spoiled those two little bratty dragon spawns Caroline and Cassidy rotten. FAO Schwartz shopping sprees, booking their last birthday bash at the Bronx Zoo because Central Park Zoo wouldn't be able to host all their friends and classmates, he had been seated near the Warthog Exhibit. Feigning it was horrid mistake, a faux pas committed by a new assistant being broken in, he knew better Miranda had arranged it to happen, initiated it as some sort of hidden message to him. As if in her cold sapphire eyes he was swine. Subspecies in her opinion. Those little mini Miranda's even had her same crocodile smiles, unflinching blue eyes and all.

Miranda made his blood pressure rise, with her acerbic tongue, he'd be having a second ulcer from all the stress she caused him, trying to oust her. Inflicted a lot of stress on his health and wellbeing. No amount of visits to Svetlana a lap dancer could relax him. That he always charged as necessary expenses' to company card entitled 'Relaxation Sessions'. Like reflexology or yoga.

Where was there waitress for their table? Irv motioned impatiently for Alain or Hubert who cares what their name was, who caught his eye approaching. Informing all around the table truckling to the legendary Miranda Priestly about the selection of aperitifs. Complimenting her exquisite taste and fluent command of his mother tongue. Paying little mind to formal table etiquette or any Emily Post manners, Irv ordered first.

Irv knew he needed a scotch neat ordering to keep them coming, to survive and endure Miranda Priestly's suppressed but smug glee at being invited by yet another board member and trustee to their home. Eavesdropping one hospitable offer, would simply love to let Caroline and Cassidy ride at their Estate's Stables. Told how their son Domingo trains his polo ponies for Bridgehampton Polo Tournament. Miranda feigned she couldn't accept such warm generosity, patted on the arm assuring by Domingo's dazzling mother, insisting Miranda is always welcome in our humble casa and her adorable ninas', Reinaldo will play host, must come for 'Asado' it was settled. Miranda sincerely accepted graciously, will have my assistant note it. For 4th July.

Irv had never been spoken to even two words by Senor and Senorina d y Vascocellos.' Yet the couple couldn't stop conversing with Ice Queen Priestley over this 4th of July fiesta or Domingo's quinceanera and told Miranda about their vast Impressionists and Cubist Art Collection. Ignored completely. Irv slung back his first scotch.

Pretentious coffee growing South American aristocracy presumption believing their somehow better than a Ravitz from Flushing. Preening peacocks.

By dessert Irv vowed he was going to be sublimely plastered with as much alcohol as he could consume. Give or take his short body weight.

Glanced at the Silent Auction bidding form, placing a few bids. He always compulsively bought when agitated and La Priestley was succeeding in doing just that.

Miranda was invited by The Osler's, true blue bloods and one of the oldest New York families to attend their box at Metropolitan Opera. Especially since the season looks promising, one must have a night of Puccini. On the Board of Julliard, Cassidy and Caroline must play for them.

Irv glowered at another ally Miranda gained. Because Miranda knew of course every operetta and The Osler's were die hard fanatics for obese singing tenors and divas.

Sour, the Trustees' simply adored her. Hung on her every word. Balling his fist under the table, he didn't have that power over people or ease of charm. Of course Miranda possessed such sang froid, weaned on it. Cold-blooded. She was a conquering force tonight.

Give him the heady days of Studio 54 handing out fairy dust like party favours and of the bygone 80s again of obtaining call girls and recreational drugs for people you wanted to impress and schmooze. Or blackmail. Not garden clubs and cultural functions.

Alaire was giving Andy the eye, which meant get the hell back to your assigned table immediately. The elaborate Christian Tortu floral arrangements and ice sculptures were not proving to be good camouflage as was the menu held up to her face.

Alaire sharply hissed at Andy. 'Is there a problem Sachs?

Andy shook her head like a deer in headlights.

'Very good, splendid than now I don't mean to run you off your feet Sachs…The VIPS at your assigned table over there. Attending this once in lifetime event are waiting.' Alaire beady eyes showed displeasure, reined in his usual temper tantrum of a teething two year old. The veins in his forehead throbbing. 'We do not want that, do we?

'Observer a ce moment précis, note how these beacons of society diners are without amuse bouche to accompany their aperitifs I took their orders. I will not abide these VIPs to be at all appetizeless, twirling empty glasses not filled with rare vintage Bordeaux and having to actually wait with bated infinity for you to be their **server** for this entire evening.'

Geez, Andy hated it when Alaire became snide and belittling. 'Now.' Alaire gave a warning glare at one of his most trying waitresses. In truth he never would have hired her as staff if not for his sous chef boyfriend Rody knowing Nate, the girl's ex. Felt sorry for her but his sympathy only went so far. If she ruined this grand evening in any way, Alaire munificence was over. Vowing Andy Sachs's non to promising career in fine dining silver service was finite.

Andy sighed, sooner more than the later she'd have to stop rushing away, stay put, and face this, face her. Now was that time. For better or worse. Probably hold a grudge till the next Ice Age. Here goes nothing. Courage. Face your fear Andy. What's the worst that could happen?

Emily caught sight of Andrea. Now was the time to act, placing her napkin off her lap, waving it non to discreetly to go away. Sod off Sachs. This could get ugly.

A slender long fingered jewelled hand gripped hers, made to stop. With a cut glass waspish tone which ebbed quiet composed icy fury. Discreetly ordered. 'Emily I will deal with Andrea myself.' Miranda's eyes were darkened sapphire saying Andrea's name out loud. Emily squeaked, numbly nodding in shock. Understood. Emily swallowed. Andrea was a dead woman.

Softly scolded, 'Emily do stop resembling an electrocuted guppy.' Turning to Alessandro, immersed in his wit and presence.

Andrea greeted the party, genuinely surprised Miranda seemed to not be acknowledging her very presence in front of her, almost displaying a healthy mature approach. She was ignoring her. Elated you might just survive this evening Sachs. Come out of it, unscathed by The Dragon Lady, minus your heart.

Andrea went to the kitchens, collecting amuse bouche for them. Things weren't as bad as first perceived. Miranda was calmer. How about that. That was a good thing. She was taking Andy being here very well considering their parting. A lot better than Andy ever would have expected.

Andy could handle Miranda ignoring her like the carpet. This was going to be an easy encounter. Exhaling a held breath, calming down. Tonight was going really well. She balanced the tray, navigating back through the dining room doors. Invisible was something she could handle.

'Sachs you've got yourself quite a little Park Avenue rich bitch at your table!' Lizzie winked, sympathetic for Andy. Their drummed in motto from Alaire was 'Serves with a smile'. That sucked for Andy, No Back Talk. Shaking her head at such unreasonable behaviour. 'Rich people huh, glad it's not me dealing with that!'

Lizzie craned a curious look at the silver haired beauty who had it in for Andy for some reason. Was out for her blood. For the last two courses had been demeaning Andrea and her lack of attention to detail.

Her artichoke salad with raspberry dressing was not fresh enough, swore she heard Andy quip so lowly back, maybe I can go pick it just for you from a vegetable garden nearby. Black Truffles were not to her liking. Vichyssoise was bland, was the chef lacking taste buds or culinary trained at Dairy Queen. Her wine glass had a smudge on it. Her fork was dirty, her water goblet had lipstick on it. Every dish served by her had a flaw.

Lizzie warned Andy, after trying not to judge, bringing another, the sixth scotch neat to that clear lush who needed the nearest AA meeting, leering at both of them at his exclusive table. Cut him off with watered down booze or he'd be having a liver transplant.

Poor Andy. She always attracted the dregs and pigs to wait on, still bemused at the time Andy's first day as a waitress, one person, a jerkoff broker made the mistake of patting Andy's pert behind and his tanned lecherous voyaging hand trailed up her toned calf. Andy bless her wicked sense of humour in retaliation had clumsily poured hot coffee down his lap because he'd told her. 'I burn for you.' Hit it off immediately, laughing hysterical at the so called accident. They became and still were the best of friends ever since that moment. Lizzie was an aspiring not yet discovered but _any_ day now sculpturer slash waitress/day barista, living in a crummy walk-up in the East Village.

Keep it together Sachs. Ignore the belittling fussy socialite keen on reproaching everything you're not doing right. What was that uptight Lady's prob with Andy? That bitch was getting under A's skin, she could see the defeated look in her eyes.

If Andy blew this gig, Lizzie knew her only NYC BFF already was on Alaire's last hanging by a thread thin chance, no doubt be evicted by Andy's a-hole slumlord and be sofa hopping next week. Offer hers. Needed a break given, do anything for Andy who was cool in her books. Let her owe her the rent till she was on her feet. Invite her to stay, Lizzie always was accused of attracting strays. Sure Lizzie had gotten plain old lucky finding her place and it was not by rental listing, she read the obituaries and crime scenes and came upon a gem. Stayed away from crack dens and condemned. Place she found just needed some strong lemon Clorox and a paint brush. Blood splatter was hard to get out.

Had plenty of room to share, to have Andy as a roomie. Besides Andy was a decent cook, didn't keep house like a slob, not overtly terrible taste in films rentals even if some had foreign subtitle's and variable questionable iTunes choices, positive wasn't likely to hack her up with a chainsaw or turn out to be a garden variety weirdo or be lusted after by a pervert or be eye or smell raped on the subway or pirate cable, or grow weed, and get her slapped with incarceration. All in all a safe bet.

Resolutely single since her last partner who screwed half of Lower Manhattan. Her ex accused her of having aggressive anger problems and issues in getting even, when she threw all of their clothes out onto the street from the fire escape and proceeded to give out every one of their treasured possessions and all belongings to the homeless shelter. Yup Lizzie was a proud emo with piercings and attitude.

It was settled. Andy Sachs was moving in. As soon as Lizzie offered.

It had been the eye of the storm called Miranda. A feint to make her comfortable and unawares like those nature channel shows, where the innocent grazing gazelle doesn't see the predator striking. Until too late, set upon grabbed by throat and eviscerated. In Andy's opinion she was that poor gazelle and Miranda the Man-eater.

Had Andy's head spinning with outright pickiness that was Miranda. Goading and provoking her ex second assistant unreasonably, it was like Runway all over again. Andy vowed to herself firmly. Will not let her get to me tonight. Whatever request thrown at her, she'd fulfil somehow. Biting her lip to not retort anything back at Miranda's recent diatribe.

Dessert consisted of sugar spun Swan with a decadent Mitcham Mint glacee with Ecuadorian chocolate drizzle. Miranda decided to be snippy again. Right at Andy.

Their eyes met. Challenging Andrea to say something back. Wouldn't. Weak. Typical.

Miranda's deep blue eyes probed Andrea's, held them, she'd been working herself into this, and Andrea made her so riled. Agitated. Being here. Pissed her off more than Stephen ever did. It's not like Andrea did anything specific to her aside from humiliating her during Fashion Week by walking out on her with little care or thought, betraying her contract, betraying Runway, betraying her.

Having the audacity to leave, just like that. Which was just like Stephen in a way. Whoa there that comparison was utterly ridiculous. Andrea was not Stephen her ex. Andrea was simply beguiling infuriating Andrea. Stephen was Stephen.

Here tonight, near her and as a waitress! Bothered Miranda. What happened to writing about the disenfranchised, never lose my integrity or sell out, scorning her people by pen and getting burnt out by that rag paper NY Mirror. It was embarrassing, she'd gone out on a pure one time only whim, giving a recommendation to hire Andrea. Yet, somehow bungled it up. How was that even possible? That had been Andrea's dream to write, hadn't it?

Come to New York City and be a Journalist. Had Emily bring her one copy, reading it with a critical eye, it had promise even if it was a bit too maudlin about the struggle for financial freedom and right to free healthcare constitutes expected liberty even for illegal migrant workers employed as Uptown Nannies, Au Pairs and Housekeepers.

Had a future as hippie grassroots lobbyist.

Why do you even care, Miranda? Why did Andrea Sach's matter to you. She was nothing, a no one. A complete nobody. Meant nothing to you, nothing what so ever.


	4. Chapter 4

Andy felt her. Her presence was easy to sense. Perfume. Miranda's scent. It was mixture of roses and something else. Inhaling it. No doubt, bespoke from _Grasse_, probably especially commissioned and made for her. She'd always be able to feel Miranda nearby.

Pretty hard not to, not know her presence close by, since Andy had assisted her far too many hours to properly tally. Practically lived at Runway's offices.

Knew Miranda's likes, quirks, dislikes. Little things that were minor. Like honey in tea in the late afternoon. Sniggering at remembering Emily's indignant declaration to Andy attempting to make it. 'Stay away from that teapot, your kind threw perfectly good cuppa in a harbour once, lunatic radicals.' Shuddering at that barbarity. To tea. Tried to explain it happened in 1773. To Emily like it was yesterday.

She looked magnificent. Priceless diamond starburst adorning the signature silver mane. Haute Couture but of course.

'_Miranda_.' Andy eyes went wide as distance. Why was Miranda seeking her out specifically? That couldn't be good. Could it?

'Walk with me.'

Ushered out of the function room, with a curt nod to follow. Miranda led.

Andy felt each step was to her doom.

* * *

'Why did you leave me in Paris?

Looking down. Not at Miranda. Mumbling her reply. 'Doing that to Nigel was… at a loss for words.

Miranda tilted Sach's jaw up to meet her eyes, shaking her head mockingly. 'Do not take me for a fool, Andrea in thinking I'd believe that your conviction in leaving was because of Nigel.' Priestly perception. Damn it.

Her long manicured finger prodded into Andy's black shirt front. 'No. Andrea until you tell me your real reason why, you will stay right here. I am waiting.' crossed arms adorned with an iridescent gauze wrap and a steely gaze.

'Tell me why.'

'Please Miranda…let Paris go. I left…simple as that.' Imploring her not to continue her relentless interrogation. Khmer Rouge, Spanish Inquisition and Salem Witch Trials had nothing on her in interrogation technique.

'No words of explanation from you other than I left'. Miranda smirked. Shaking her regal head. 'A Pulitzer awaits your eloquence.'

'Surely an explanation I am owed at least that, Andrea from you.' Still felt her fingers on her.

'A reason a plausible excuse for leaving me in Paris. Well come on answer me.'

Andy swallowed. Miranda persistent dogmatic need for an answer was not good. If she confessed the truth about feelings, her feelings for Miranda. Miranda would be more than cruel possibly and more than probable, repulsed, and bemused by it. One big amusing joke to her. On her. Most Definitely.

Had to get away from Miranda fast. 'Listen Miranda I told you I left. I wanted to do so for a long time, now I have to be going…Goodbye Miranda.' Andy made to leave halted by tinkering supercilious laughter at Andy.

'Oh that's right, how could I possibly be remiss, you always take the easy road out.' Miranda's nostrils flared. 'Don't you Andrea? It's ingrained in your utterly immature nature. Leaving things or is it running away from everything? Miranda snorted at absurdity of Andrea.

Which is it you do better Andrea, the fleeing or the running scared when things get really tough or really difficult? Sneering at Andy. 'Should have a master's degree in it.' Exasperation etched her face. 'Perhaps the one and only thing you're actually good at. _Leaving_.'

Low blow. Andy stiffened at her jibes.

'Do by all means go flitter and flounce off. Andrea. I could care less. Back to Ohio was it'. Waving a fake goodbye. Miranda took in her ex assistant, finally really looking at Andy for the first time this evening.

Still had the same two eyes, like honeyed golden cognac in hue and earlier that insipid goofy smile that grated on her. Hair braided up in a ponytail for her job. Hideous. Thinner than last time she'd seen her across the street. The dolt had actually waved. Waved at her. Unbelievable.

Just leave NY Andrea. Not meant for it. This city will ruin you. Certainly not cut out for surviving it.

Ignored Andrea's discomfort. Miranda acidly mused. 'You know I should have known you'd be by far the worst choice, I ever made, you'll never know how deeply I regret giving you a chance.'

Shaking her head. 'Hiring _you_.'

Miranda was going for the jugular. Nettling Andy. Toying with her like a Nile crocodile. 'Really only because of that quaint little speech you gave.'

Relentless and snappy.

'Such a monumental disappointment to me.'

Accentuating her exhaled words with barbed elocution, particularly inflecting the word _disappointment _at Andy. Cutting eyes measured her shrewdly, drawling out.' 'Andrea.' She could see she'd hurt her deeply in those brown eyes, Good.

Cold Sapphire bored into Andy menacingly.

Miranda solemnly swore to never again hire based on indignation and in truth challenged dare she say intrigued by the audacity of a Northwestern graduate, vowed circumvent that urge to try someone different. Fresh. Ridiculous to have even considered _that,_ to be employed at her magazine. Did not make decisions for Runway with whims or emotions in the equation. 'Your lack of commitment to suitable employment is deplorable.' Looking revolted.

Miranda had a lot to get off her chest in how Andrea irked her. 'Uncouth. Infantile. Gauche'. Andy blinked, hurt by Miranda's unfair judgement. Of her character. None of those things.

Chiding 'I was too tolerant to your constant incompetence.' Arrogantly sniffing. 'Far too generous and lenient for you.' Miranda icily ranted. 'Should never have offered Paris to you.'

'Look at you, Andrea your barely capable of explaining yourself or your actions adequately to me. Let a known follow anything I required or instructed was ever deemed to my satisfaction.'

Andy saw red.

'Newsflash Priestly no job will ever be done to your satisfaction!' Andy's eyes flashed. Why did her Ex-Boss behave like they were at war? Been insulted enough to last a lifetime by Miranda's sharp words.

Andy had had enough of Miranda from the beginning of this evening to now, was trying to remain calm, and composed in The Dragon Lady's presence. Failing in that venture. Jangled by the force that was Miranda.

Moving closer in the empty stateroom with only the two of them facing each other down. Breathing like at a marathon.

'Miranda don't delude yourself. Generous. Giving. Tolerant. _You!_ Don't make me laugh.' Time to let this all out. Confront it.

Sachs' were known to occasionally lose their heads in arguments and that time was now. Usually it was over Thanksgiving or hanging Christmas lights.

'I think Miranda you invent things to bitch about…. to fill up your _empty...useless..._ _lifeless_ days. In Paris you told me how everyone wants to be like you, _why would they_.' Andy shook her head pityingly.

Five months ago, Andy would never have ever said any of this to anyone especially to The Dragon Lady.

'Hard to please. Vain and mean, you belittle everyone, no wonder every husband fled. Hell I'd do the same. I did, do the same. Free of you. Notice a pattern most people hate being around you.'

Andy didn't normally lose her easy going demeanour. 'Maybe you should think on this, because not all men leave their wives, they just leave you.'

Touché Sachs. Finally told Miranda off. You'd once had dreams of this exact moment in your first weeks of employment. That and Miranda being hit by a cab.

'Guess your twins Cassidy and Caroline are obligated to stay I suppose.'

Don't you dare bring my daughters into this.' Crossed a line. Andy sobered from losing it.

Miranda was livid. Her twins were off limits.

You idiot Sachs, by the look on Miranda's hurt face she'd hit a few nerves. Well good, should be payback. So why did Andy feel so crummy about it. Wanted to say she did but didn't mean it. Miranda made her certifiable. Certifiably nuts.

Taller than Miranda, firmly gripped her arm. 'Andrea let go of me now,' Failing to yank her arm back. Stephen was like that. Physical in proving his point.

'Release me or I will have you charged with assault.' Warning her ex assistant. Stepping back from Andrea who still had a hold of her.

Far too close for Miranda's comfort zone. Faltering and uncertain in Andrea's proximity. Meant every word, if Andrea laid a hand of malice on her. Would regret it seriously.

Backed up against the door. Cornered. Andrea weighed the hissed words than decided fuck it.

Wild blue eyes mesmerised Andy, the bluest she'd ever seen, falling for her eyes, sinking into those eyes, captivating her. What the hell was she supposed to say to Miranda? Tongue tied.

Enough. Didn't want to fight anymore.

Unable to form the _right_ words to convey to Miranda, a reason any reason but the truth because usually everything she said or did made Miranda viciously angry at her. For Andy there was no need for words. Kept what she wanted to say bottled inside.

Deciding to take action. Show Miranda. What are you waiting for Sachs? Pivotal to finally do this. See this through. Don't be a wussy Sachs. You're not gutless. Never have been. Do not back down. Pushed to the breaking point. Well passed it. Give it all to Miranda Priestly.

Miranda deserved it.

All or nothing. Still grasped. Held to, moving closer, very close to. Inches from Miranda's face.

Andy lips crashed into a startled mouth. Grazed sensuously, kneading into it, for Andy it was like sparks flying slow motion. Kissing Miranda with all she had pent up, simmering between them. Ignited and combusting.

Fuelling this intense kiss with need, want and raw ache of being apart. Earned a whimper, gentled, all Andy wanted was this taste that Miranda's lips allowed her. Languishing in this frisson sensation. Pleasant, tingling. It didn't matter what happened next. Deepening it into a french kiss. Andy felt her tremor, did she make Miranda shiver.

Porcelain soft skin like gravity was pulling every part of Andy in. Collided. Crashing into one another.

Grasped to steady, her black shirt and black apron held onto by cupped palms. It was like Andy had never kissed anyone else ever before, the other's before were timid practices compared to this searing lips exchanged, determined to twine their souls, sewn their fragile hearts together, all she breathed was Miranda.

It felt great. More than great, incredible. Fit together perfectly. Andy smiled blithely into this kiss, inevitable centrifugal motion.

Broken apart, left breathless, and wiping her mouth shakily. Andy heart was in her mouth. Quietly spoke 'That's why I left…left you' in response to her question. For almost a second, both froze.

She let go of Miranda's arm.

'Don't. Ever. Come. Near. Me. Again'.

Miranda's voice was like cut glass, pushing away from the wall and from Andy. Andrea backed away, she had never seen Miranda look like that before.

Her blue crystalline eyes no longer glacial instead bright and unfathomable. Her perfectly coiffed image shaken. She turned, walking away her stilettos clicking on the tile, almost running away from her former assistant.

'Miranda. Wait.' Already gone.

Left a very dejected Andy behind. Alone.

Screwed up Sachs, by shoving your tongue down her throat.

* * *

Irv gulped down his drink he'd lost count of how many he'd had, well past the legal limit, smiling widely after another scotch or maybe something stronger he would be contently plastered and it wasn't even 11pm. Only other thing to be sheer perfection, a box of Cuban cigars, he'd be smoking them like they were good for him. Bless cohibas. Hell with giving into non-smoking wimps.

Saw a flushed Miranda rushing up to the table. Curious.

Never seen Miranda look like that ever. Every hair was out of place, she looked positively ruffled. Something upset her. Greatly. Bloodshot eyes observed his nemesis, ordering a coffee black, forgoing his plans for inebriated oblivion. Cut himself off. He need to be somewhat sober for whatever cracked the icy veneer of Runway's Ice Queen.

Hoping with bated glee, that drunken ex Mr Priestly had shown up and made a scene or taken custody of the twin brats. God bless divorce lawyers, heartless sharks. Irv loved to sic them on his numerous ex's. Pre nups were why he loved this country's freedoms. Never share what you earn.

Irv mused maybe ol' Stevie grew a pair finally. Good take her little ones and send them to boarding school. A Swiss one in the Alp Mountains. Strict one with corporeal punishment inflicted.

Poor Miranda it would bring her over the edge and he would be right there pushing her.

Irv was eager for front row seats to whatever had made her look so hurt, so human. So breakable. He slammed down his empty scotch and reached for the coffee that would make sober men's eyes water. Savouring the bitterness, his beady eyes bright. Waiting.

Alessandro de LaRossi admired Miranda Priestly greatly. Very much a lady, a bite he considered wicked and exemplary taste in everything. Accomplished. Sensual. Carved with an elegant strength under appreciated. Taking the helm of Runaway and turning it into the most respected periodical was no easy feat. At 28. Miranda had surpassed in crafting _**Runway**_ to seamless perfection. Shown that all boy's club. Who held the reins, the one with vision?

Alessandro did not care for Irving Ravitz. The man was a culo di asino.

Shared many years of appreciation and aesthetics of fashion. Known _Marina_. His late wife, former style editor of Italian Runway. Been a very good and true friend in his loss.

Marina had many intimate and amusing conversations with Mira, teased both once over Marina being cationic terrified of the formidable Editor. Told bemused greeting 'Signorina de LaRossi one finds it is beneficial to breathe when meeting for the first time'.

Been so unnerved by the rumours of Miranda Priestley showed the swatches and sketches and mock layout twice. Drank her coffee. Charmed by mortified Marina and bantering sincere forgiveness over drinking her refreshment.

Invited to dinner that had been the start. Accepted. Alessandro had been reminded what to wear. Had thrown that careful planning of Marina's out the proverbial window. Honestly forgotten, arrived late, still casual from working at his mills. Arriving Alessandro one look from his wife was ready to serve _him_ for dinner. Best introduction be yourself.

Greeted the frosty pristine Editor with an exuberant kiss on both cheekbones. 'Benvenuta Miranda.' Explained my wife wants to kill me for looking scruffy in front of the Queen of Fashion.' Earned a genuine laugh and from that evening became the best of friends.

Hoped tomorrow to see Caroline and Cassidy, Mira's twins. Attended their christening. Made the babies godparents. Alessandro doubted Miranda's daughters, remembered him.

Seen them in London a few years back, there for oncology treatments at Lister, visited as a friend, not the Editor. The twins had given two teddy bears one for Marina because of being ill and the matching one for Alessandro.

Told very seriously, hug them when you're poorly or frightened. Touched by the gesture.

Knew Miranda later sent Marina the folders of London Fashion Week's designers and previews, asking for her sophisticated opinion and the exquisite bouquets' of hope.

That hidden act of thoughtful kindness earned Marina remission for a few months.

Penned a very beautiful memoriam for Marina in The Editor's Letter.

Honoured to be considered a very close friend whom he did not see as often as he liked to. Loved Miranda implicitly and deeply.

Attuned to something was wrong, removing a pocket square, pressed into her palm. Discreetly.

Irving nearly had whiplash. Only way Irv would ever have believed _it_ was because he saw _it_ for himself with his own shocked eyes. Miranda almost crying. Tears, unshed glistening, this was wonderful. Ecstatic something dreadful had happened. It had happened to Priestly.

Elated. Irv craved to see The Ice Queen all pristine and flawless crumbled with a worthy wielded comeuppance.

Something scandalous or salacious, something tarnishing, damaging. Irv Ravitz lived on that kind of mudslinging headlines. It made boards and trustees cautious of you. Leery.

* * *

Lizzie had covered for Andy. Relieved as she tugged on Andy's sleeve. Warned. 'Alaire is on the warpath.' Lizzie noticed something off with Andy. Not able to place it.

Numb, didn't know how to feel. Had kissed Miranda. It _had_ happened. After it, Miranda now wanted nothing to do with her.

No turning back. Push rewind. Couldn't take it back. Unkiss Miranda. Done. Over. Made such a stupid mistake. Except Andy couldn't erase the imprint of her lips, could not erase it from her mind. She wouldn't regret that kiss but she would have to forget it.

Just the matter of putting a discarded heart back together.


	5. Chapter 5

Andrea's lips had left her _breathless_. Needed a second to process.

Miranda manicured slender fingers felt the fine linen, dabbed her eyelids, murmuring gratitude to Alessandro.

Lying allergies. Alessandro murmured his sympathy but still saw something unsettled Mira.

Emily looked about desperately for a hint of freesia.

No one unglued or undid The Dragon Lady. Andrea Sach's kiss had.

Andrea had violated her. Defiled by a kiss. Andrea's mouth had dared to meet hers, lips grazing had paralyzed Miranda. It had been initiated purely by crazy impulsiveness by Andrea. Held to and unable to squirm free. Lips that felt wet and soft like a butterfly's wing. Never been kissed so vigorously. By any of her former husbands.

Stephen her soon to be ex, simply pecked.

Wimpered at the force, tried to convey noncompliance, comparing it to the plight of the Sabine's. Doubting her attorney could press charges with assault by mouth.

To Miranda's mute astonishment, Andrea deepened it. Andrea was stirred with a reaction Miranda was very unaccustomed to, desire. Andrea's silky lips were kneading hers. For more than a moment, Miranda languished in their kiss, tentatively almost responding. So this was what it was like, to be thoroughly kissed by someone. How her ex-spouses should have.

Oh god Miranda you're actively participating in this forceful carnality. Knew Andrea was not her lover, they'd never even been _this_ close to each other. Ever. Miranda had a strict policy on all employees to stay at arm's length.

Miranda never envisioned in any situation being pressed to her ex assistant.

Andrea Sachs loathed and despised her, if she wasn't mistaken? Her words earlier '_how empty her life was' _echoed hatred, and Andrea's outright disgust with Miranda's shallow lifestyle. Not prepared for this.

Nothing could have prepared her for _Andrea._

Andrea was an impossible girl, klutzy and coltish. Impetuous. Irritating. Unpredictable. As well as being everything else she'd savagely accused Andrea of being.

When Andrea had grabbed her and she had retaliated with threats, had anticipated to be struck.

Had been expecting anything but this kiss flung at her.

Miranda's heart was racing and it was all Andrea's doing. Chiding herself, Andrea was making you lose all sense of reason. Turned all axiom on its head. Admittedly wrong about Andrea, apparently kissing was a skill she more than excelled at.

Made her shiver, quivering as their connected lips began parting, following Andrea's lead. An ex-employee, a twenty four year old made her feel frisson. Was instigating a_ 'un baiser amoureux'_ bidding her mouth to open and begin a slow erotic french kiss. This should not be happening between them.

Weak in the knees, steadied herself by gripping onto Sach's ebony shirt and apron. Tremoring from the sudden realization she _liked _Andrea kissing her. Responded and most definitely reacted to Andrea's slickened mouth. Repressed her slender graceful fingertips from tracing skin and feeling if it was, as heated and flushed as she felt.

Pressed against back of the door Miranda was pinned to, reflected in Andrea's caramel irises' was want, lust. _Wanted_ her.

Broken apart. Frozen and panting.

Had heard Andrea's soft words. ''That's why I left…left you.''

Andrea, released her.

Spoke those words.

Than the Dragon Lady reared her ugly head. Left her? That was the reason, the reason for Paris.

Desired her.

That was why Andrea had fled like a deer from her. Overwhelming Attraction. Desire. Want. It was inexcusable.

Retreating away from Andrea without another word. Andy had upset her more than every philandering affair thrown under her nose by Stephen. Was she so unbearable and unlovable to be with? Andrea had left her, running away from her. Left her in the most wonderful city in the world alone.

Mulled ''that's why I left…left you'' over and over in her head. That meant that _Andrea_ was…_attracted_ to her. _Very_ attracted to her, if that kiss was anything go by. Why would she be and why the hell was she more furious at Andrea than her ex for leaving?

Andrea had seen every cruel side of Runway's Editor. She was indeed parts of everything Andrea had accused of, vain and difficult and even more flawed according to her ex Stephen.

Stephen's words. Bitter. Difficult to live with. Frigid. Impossible, Unable to perform matrimonial rights and duties to his satisfaction, such a shame, poor deprived and denied Stephen having to seek solace in lap dancers and porn because his wife worked.

How careless of her, she was only running a magazine with only 977,000 subscribers, and in charge of an office filled with staff who expected Miranda Priestly to be solely one minded and committed. To Runway.

Contrary to Stephen's disparaging comments on '_Randa,_ _it's just fashion stuff_ 'not important like his work at Tomlinson, and Associates. Yes Tax Law. Earth shattering.

'_Stuff'_. As if being Editor in Chief of Runway was just picking swatches and pretty frocks.

Not to forget another major reason why their marriage collapsed, Caitlin, Stephen's _very _accommodating paralegal, too accommodating.

Stephen was old enough to be Caitlin's father, in fact her father was Stevie's age and was part of Stephen's old fraternity Delta Kappa Epsilon. Stephen's assistant was fresh out of grad school, considerably polished and perky. Doted on Stephen. Didn't Caitlin realise she was just one of many flings to Stephen.

Seen it, shrewdly at one law firm reception, she had _tried _to attend. For him.

Had the narcissm to introduce them. Caitlin joked finally meeting Stephen wife, ''so this is your Miranda, I'm Stephen's Cat, his go to girl.'' Well that wasn't an understatement. Boardroom to Bedroom.

Refused Caitlin's hand extended.

Known right then and there, Stephen was cheating. The lipstick on his collar that the housekeeper Isabella had brought to her attention a fuchsia, a shade she would never wear, the same hue on Caitlin's far too pouty lips. Sleeping with Caitlin. Escaping his loveless marriage to the 'Resident Ice Queen' driven straight into the arms of an extra-marital affair.

Not welcomed in her bed. The humiliation of being replaced by a hussy on training wheels.

Miranda had Isabella make up one of the guestrooms Stephen's.

_Caitlin._ Explained Stephen's late nights coming home, excuses of being rushed off his feet at work, every other weekend needing to go to their correction_ her_ Beach House on Southampton Meadow Lane because Cassidy and Caroline on weekends were to boisterous with Patricia and he needed to quietly work.

By the time Miranda was due to attend Paris Fashion Week. Stephen hadn't bothered to hide it.

Had heard them, on the phone a few days before Paris. Giggling, the girl actually got giddy and flirty with Stephen, like hormonal teenagers, Caitlin hung on every word like some type of obedient fawning lap dog. Young, naive.

Like Andrea.

Blind hero worship that's what it was, a crush that is what Andrea felt. Power was attractive. It was infatuation. Wanted a fantasy. Not the flawed reality. Surely seen it in that hotel suite that night.

Momentary phases of superficial crushes and idol worship made her lip curl and drew Miranda's ire.

She didn't need Andrea.

Did Not Want Andrea Sachs.

Would not be with someone for a casual tryst or a meaningless one night stand, rebound and would not be made a fool of by Andrea Sachs. By those burning eyes that's all Andrea wanted. Sex.

What did Miranda want in someone? Love. Fidelity.

Andrea had some nerve, a plebeian, a little nobody feeling sorry for someone like her who has everything. Indignant Miranda Priestly loved her life and accomplishments, telling herself she was not empty or vapid. Andrea was wrong.

Alaire knew that Andy had left her duties. Shirking them. Unbelievable. Who the hell did Andrea Sach's think she was? That she could just come and go as she pleases. He was her manager, she was supposed to listen to him, be in fear of him. Sachs was lucky to have this job.

Disappearing like that, away from her table was unacceptable.

Dock her pay as a warning.

Approaching his VIPS, preening an enquiry if everything was to their satisfaction. Mainly the opinion of their silver haired hostess mattered.

A ginger hair Anglo seemed to be her assistant. Snotty in Alaire's opinion, he hated strawberry haired women. Mercurial tempers.

Miranda motioned Alaire forward, allowed near The Editor in Chief. To orbit her circle was a privilege. Glibly complimenting the fine culinary selection being impeccable, rare vintages heaven. Shallowly complimented.

Alaire had read about her in Page Six. Very intimidating legendary figure. Feared. Powerful. Her opinion made or broke you. Rumoured a pursing of lips could mean the end of your career and future. Her lips were pursing, more of a straight line, that could bode impending doom for 'a la Bouche Catering.' Alaire's business, if its reputation was tarnished he'd have to go and live in Brooklyn and groom toy dogs again. What his father always told him, he'd only amount to.

Holding his breath. If anything had failed to impress he would remedy immediately. Anything. Demand the chefs and waitering staff stay all night if needed, what faux pas had been committed he'd correct. Desperate. Wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of The Dragon Lady's displeasure or wrath.

Alaire quirked a strained smile, truckling. Awaiting the verdict.

Miranda saw Andrea behind him. Looked right through her.

Andrea Sachs needed to learn a lesson. A lesson from The Dragon Lady.

There was one thing he could do for her, paramount it be done immediately. A request.

Alaire nodded eagerly. Anything Madame Priestly required, he would do. Hoping it would not be too impossible something along the line of finding a bottle of _Heidsieck's Goût Américain Champagne_ vintage 1907, he knew exactly who he would send to find and fetch it, Andy.

Miranda smiled. '' I want you to dismiss that waitress from your employ right now.''

Watched the back of Miranda leaving, Sweeping away in her gossamer wrap. Andy swallowed. Thanks to Miranda she was jobless.


	6. Chapter 6

''Sachs! Has some nerve ruining this whole evening.'' Emily hissed, rushing off to catch up with Miranda. Grabbing her clutch. Stomping after her Boss.

Haley. Miranda's second assistant or _**'Emily 2'**_ by two weeks repeated the name. ''Sachs.'' Mulling over the surname, sounded somehow familiar to her.

''Paris Sachs.''

Clicking, Andrea Sachs, that assistant who walked out on Miranda in Paris. 'The One That Got Away'. The one whispered about in cubicles so quietly in fear Miranda might hear. Haley thought it was an urban myth. Wow, impressed _the_ Andrea Sachs, a legend in Runway's Offices really existed.

Haley was the type of person who belonged at Runway, honey blond hair, 6'1 despite resembling a Swedish supermodel, she didn't even like fashion. All geek. Give her galoshes and mud. Master in Social Behavioural Anthropology and a Minor in Ethology was her thing, sure she kept a field diary to observe and truthfully in Haley's opinion the social and mating rituals of Manhattan's elite were far more complex than tribes in the Rainforests of the Amazon or head hunters of Papua New Guinea.

Especially at Runway.

From the clackers to Nigel and snitty Emily who's devotion to their Boss bordered on Jonestown. Haley suspected if The Dragon Lady demanded Emily be blindfolded and hauled into Madison Avenue oncoming traffic in search of piping hot Starbucks or a Smith & Wollensky medium rare steak, Emily devotedly would do so.

Observing Miranda Priestly's was more intriguing than any tribe untouched by civilization. Like a lone stalking Sumatran tiger. Devoured any obstacle set in her path. Held a morbid fascination.

''Sachs.'' Irv Ravitz heard the name, realised who that fired waitress was, that little assistant that walked during Fashion Week. Anne or something was the name. Chucked the job ''that a million girls would kill for''. Irv recalled his personal assistant Cece converse about it in astounded wonder at anyone crazy enough to dare cross Miranda Priestly should be committed. Stranding Miranda Priestly assistant less in Paris was career suicide. The Dragon Lady would bury her. Lucky if she'd ever find a job on the East Coast or the West Coast. To Cece, Ms Priestly was a woman who held grudges. Recalling when one hopeless intern name Jess bought instant, instant Maxwell House to Miranda at a morning on location photo shoot it was poured by the volatile Editor into Jess's purse. Poor kid, quantum physics exams were easier to cope with than The Dragon Lady's wrath.

Irv and Cece had been dining in Runway's private dining room meant only for important staff like themselves. Irv was persuading Cece the merits of being his very hands on Personal Assistant at the time.

This Sachs person upset Miranda Priestly greatly. Irv saw it. Miranda's eyes spoke volumes. Never seen anyone else ruffle La Priestly more. Irving Ravitz smiled maybe Priestly's ex-assistant being their waitress tonight at this Benefit Gala was a fortunate opportunity. A boon. This Sach's kid was Miranda Priestly's kryptonite. Very interesting.

For Irving Ravitz nothing ventured nothing capital gained.

''You're fired Sachs. Get Out,'' Alaire's final words bit into Andy as did the chilly March evening. Alaire could take that job and shove it up his preening backside. Jobless. Now what was she going to do? Barely had enough for rent or groceries, living from pay check to pay check. Just great Sachs, you went and kissed Miranda enough to make her on the warpath of vindictive by demanding Andy be fired. Andy always did everything with her heart wide open. Full on and exuberant. Only way to feel and live.

It was a worth it kiss though, stunned Miranda Priestly silent, for once. Speechless. If only Andy had tried that a few times in Runway's Offices.

Miranda was one piece of work, made Andy crazy, lost all reason just decided to act, to kiss her quiet and show her once stormy boss how she made her feel and it wasn't just a kiss between them. Never kissed anybody like that before not even Nate. Andy had felt Miranda respond to it. To them. Looked into the most beautiful vivid blue eyes she'd ever witnessed and seen the spark. But that spark had certainly fizzed to icy Antarctica by Miranda's words of staying the hell away from her. Vitriol aversion.

Banished from her presence. For good.

Walking swiftly, two at a time down subway stairs at least Andy had enough for the fare. Screw Nate for ruining her life by leaving owing five months' rent that simply slipped his mind. Her name was on the lease. Which meant to their inflexible landlord Andy was responsible even though Nate had absconded to Boston. Andy knew it was some sort of twisted Nate payback on _her_ for devoting all her time to Runway instead of to Nate's _time_. Screw the guy who interviewed her at the NY Mirror for firing her for making one decision on what was more important in her life. Screw her now defunct waitress job she was terrible at, only job she could get. Screw her life in general. Thanks to Miranda Priestly, Andy now had no job because of kissing the Ice Queen.

Had zero job prospects now, by the rate of this unforgettable evening that came from hell probably no most definitely will be homeless by this Monday? Vowing to herself if thanks to The Dragon Lady she became indigent, she would camp in Miranda's Upper East Side Neighbourhood and become one of those deranged Central Park bag lady no one could get rid of. Scare Emily. Sure she'd survive rooting through garbage and upscale trash cans of caterers like Alaire's. Al fresco dining. Blame it all on kissing Miranda. Could see herself in ten years, toothless, unwashed and covered in pigeon poop, claiming a park bench. It'll be _great. Her destitute future._

Maybe she should just call home. Admit defeat. They were right this city had eaten her alive.

Andy sobered she wouldn't call her family. Nope. Will not do that. Not ever, after the way she'd left them last time. Disowned anyway for choices, _her_ choices that they didn't agree with. Missed her dad. Wished her mom was here to just talk to. About to push through the turnstile with her coin in the token slot. Pushing her ear buds in, pressing her ipod on. Her wrist caught.

Who the hell was this guy? Slithery toothsome smile, Andy thought, her brows furrowing, she was not in the mood for a mugging or attack by a guy in a tuxedo. NY subways at 11:58pm, scary place.

''Miss Sachs isn' it.'' Irving Ravitz held onto Andy toned arm.

''Huh, how did this stranger know her name? Cautious Andy mumbled. ''Maybe.'' Scrunching in her pockets for what Sachs, a breath mint to defend yourself with.

Slouching her shoulders, he'd had been at Miranda's table. Andy knew him sort of from that night Stephen showed up intoxicated and narrowly insulted Irv here and thankfully Andy saved Miranda's incredibly ungrateful derriere. What was his name Saul…Ira couldn't remember it offhand. Distracted Irv with a question about ghost-writers.

''I'm Irving Ravitz call me Irv please.'' Jovially extending his hand to shake, letting go of Andy's arm. ''Forgive me Miss Sachs but I just couldn't help but overhear Miranda Priestly ensuring your job loss. It was uncalled for cruelty. My sympathies for any abuse endured. Miranda is…well Page Six does give out warnings on her.''

'' It's so unfair to have you unjustly fired in this way…. I'd be so humiliated if I were you.''

Andy frowning, rub it in buddy. Twist the knife in a little deeper. Shrugging at Irv. ''Yeah… I guess I'll survive. Goodnight Mr. Ravitz.'' Pushing in a token and strided halfway through the barrier. Waving a strained goodbye.

Irving Ravitz took in Sachs, taller than him, 20s. Not in any way _**Runway **_material. Not polished or urbane. Must be an affront to existence to Miranda sophisticated paragon. Pleased that this species of unchic nettled The Dragon Lady.

Irv face fell at her suddenly leaving, rushing after her. Peeling off a 100 dollar bill from his money clip for subway fare. Irv never rode the NY transit with the socially and financially disenfranchised. Preferring to travel in chauffeured town cars. No, he wouldn't lose _the_ ex-assistant who disconcerted Miranda Priestly so much.

Andy waited on the platform, heard panting behind her shoulder, turning around, her dark brown eyes narrowed on Mr. Ravitz. Her train was due any minute.

''What do you want?'' Andy demanded.

Irv smiled. '' I want you. Miss Sachs.''

''Me.'' Andy looked at Irving Ravitz in disbelief. Remembered at the gala he was guzzling back a lot of scotch, no way in hell she was going to have sex with him.

Andy had always been accused her eyes said too much or maybe it was the gag reflex of her mouth.

If he got handsy she'd use force. Against him.

''No, no Miss Sachs you misunderstand my proposition, you were once employed by Ms. Priestly am I right, you were her assistant…oh such a truly thankless position at Runway, fetching for Miranda…you see I'm in need of someone in your calibre. Someone young… fresh…hip.'' Irv smiled sardonically, someone who'll drive Miranda Priestly crazy, 24 hours a day, five days a week. One sure thing, Miss Sachs very presence unhinged the Ice Queen completely. Elated, by next quarter Miranda would be out and Jacqueline would be in and he would be in heaven, his mistress happy, him even happier.

Planning to play more golf and maybe take a nice trip to the Caymans or Aruba. Sitting back sipping on daiquiris' on white sandy beaches looking over his tax dodging accounts.

Andy listened politely to the Chairman of Elias-Clark Publishing Corp offer.

''I'll think about it.'' Her train was stopping. Had to get on.

Irv extended his card desperate. ''Consider Miss Sachs. Please do, we can have lunch at the Mark.'' Clutching her hand in his sweaty palms.

Irving Ravitz knew one sure thing we all are made of greed and everyone has a price. Even Andrea Sachs. Besides the girl shouldn't hesitate with such a once in a lifetime opportunity since her future was bleak with watching pennies and joining the massive throngs on the unemployment line.

Andy took his monogrammed business card. Stepping onto the subway car.

12:15pm Downtown

Andy sludged up the 47 steps from the street of her walk-up. On the last step, Andy eyes widened, slumping on the door, evicted, all her belongings deposited in garbage bags. Great jobless and homeless in one night, fate loves you Andy Sachs.


	7. Chapter 7

Emily's text. 'Miranda has left the Gala'.

Roy. Miranda's chauffeur for the past fifteen years was glad he'd held unto his job with the tempestuous and very unpredictable Miranda Priestly. In mornings she rarely made conversation, simply pressed the divider for privacy, he always had the car immaculate for his boss. Waxed and shined. Roy was on call at all hours, ready for any time needed. Sure he'd witnessed a few things he'd never comment about, signed a confidentiality waiver. Saw but didn't see. Took in a lot from his rear view mirror.

For instance, her eyes only truly lit with Cassidy and Caroline were around. Entrusted to drive the twins to and from school, lessons of ballet, piano, flute, tae kwon do, tennis, fencing and horseback riding and if they were attending any extracurricular activities Roy drove them and waited. Miranda was very protective of her daughters'. Roy had only seen her look once like pure dragon breathing fire over missing a recital. Due to that chirpy assistant Andy, yup Andy was a sweet kid but boy had she messed up that time. Shocked not dismissed that very day despite failing to get Miranda home during a severe hurricane. Desperately Roy had even been called to drive down to Miami by a hyperventilating Andy.

Roy had liked Andy immediately and her perseverance. Genuine wholesome optimism. Down to earth. Gave him good advice on an anniversary present for Roy's wife that was not dinner at a Sports Bar or the Olive Garden and tickets to NY Rangers for their 25th anniversary.

Watched a few times, sympathetically at Andy working on two different school projects on the solar system alone in the back seat, pasting and sprinkling in stalled mid-town traffic to Dalton, snorted at a joke he'd made remembering a time when most children did their own homework. Sassed back by Andy not these two Priestly's. Special. VIPs. Homework is done for them by a lowly second assistant. Andy joked hope she wouldn't have to take cello or flute lessons for them. Musically uncoordinated. Flunk any music conservatory admission if left up to her.

Roy gave Andy survival tips on Cassidy and Caroline Priestly. Andy noticed and noted what the twins liked and disliked. Little details Andy took in, had a fantastic memory. Cared about her job. Getting it right. Asked a lot of questions of Emily who generally ignored the twins' existence entirely. Snarled ''I am not a crèche worker. I am Miranda's _first_ assistant.'' Throwing her title around liberally in the backseat. Roy caught Andy's eye.

Andy had suddenly stopped working for Ms Priestly five months ago. Shame. Was going to invite Andy for Thanksgiving at his house in New Jersey after Paris, never saw her again. Andy was much more on the ball than snarky 'Carrot top'. Roy didn't dare ask after Andy. Valued his position and had to pay his mortgage and put his kids through college.

Ms Priestly was still an enigma to Roy. Drove her through all seasons. Hardly spoke except for her salutation and the traffic report. Aloof and unapproachable many times but than two December's ago, he'd been requested to drive them to Litchfield for a Christmas tree. Roy was surprised Miranda Priestly could have had any one of her assistants' order one to be professionally decorated and be lit waiting in the townhouse but instead had went in search of a perfect fir with the twins. The second husband, Stephen Tomlinson was a class A douchebag. Too busy at work to join them for the day. Roy knew better. Working Christmas Eve, it was obvious, schlepping somebody.

Good humouredly tied the wrapped tree atop the limo.

Roy knew Miranda Priestly was not blind.

Perceptive and controlled. Undecipherable.

Watched the backseat from the mirror as Roy drove Ms Priestly uptown. Looked the same as when he'd picked her up after Paris.

Truly didn't seem herself tonight, pulling up to the curb. Bidding Miranda Priestly a formal goodnight. Miranda entered her home. Exhaling in the townhouse illuminated hallway. Quietly slipping off her heels and stepped onto parquet floors.

Isabella, her housekeeper had babysat, watching Ms Priestly approaching, she looked muy sofisticado and always magnificently coiffed. Her vivid _azu_l eyes looked upset. Been crying. Isabella knew Miranda Priestly or Ms Miranda as she addressed her, well enough recalled like yesterday when those two ''Rojas diablos'' sleeping like angels upstairs had been brought home from hospital as the most precious infants. Miranda's babies. A pair. Working for the Priestly's was Isabella's first job in America. Done very well considering she'd left Bogotá with nothing. Yes Isabella cooked and cleaned for them as her job description entailed but also consoled and listened. Few would believe Page Six included, how Isabella knew The Priestley's. Cassidy and Caroline had thank dios gotten over their pranking habit four months ago. They were good girls just needed someone to be genuinely interested in them. Without ulterior motives like invites to fashion shows or designer giveaways. Dalton Academy had a lot of brats who were starving for parental attention.

Maybe a bit spoiled. The twins had their mother's complete attention.

Speaking low, scolding in rapid Spanish to a lumbering gigantic St Bernard to cease drooling on her spotless marble tiles. Patricia. 210 pounds of fur and drool. That dog had been a special gift from the twins to their Mom. Quite a Mother's Day present. Isabella had laid out a lot of newspaper for puppy proofing. In a few short months the cute pequena perro grew ginormous by six months. Isabella swore instead of named Patricia should be called 'Dumb Dumb'. Ms Miranda tolerated the exuberant canine even when during a private dinner party Patricia ate the Roast ready to be carved. Some guests swore they heard Miranda laugh. Page Six could not substantiate. Patricia mainly listened to Ms Miranda's stern commands. Still amused how Patricia did not care for the soon to be ex Mr Tomlinson neither did Isabella. Patricia had an addictive affinity for chewing up Stephen's handmade $1,830 a pair Berluti's and patent leather wingtips.

Mr Stephen although Isabella had a few choice descriptive words for Esteban, who was a toxic person and a worthless husband, treating Ms Miranda and the twins like disposable objects. To be cast about. Seen the impersonal gestures and gifts when he wouldn't attend PTA or the twins' recitals or outings. Do not treat who you supposedly love like that. Make sacrifices for them. Try. Give. Do not become the cause of distress and discord every day. Spineless.

Obvious to Mr Stephen, people were objects, possessions put nothing of yourself into.

Asked to make up another room for Mr Stephen, Isabella knew what that meant. Ms Miranda had her pack up all _his_ 'not be touched by the twins' belongings, suits and deposited it all in a room far away from hers. No way of working it out.

Returned from Paris, to Isabella something was wrong. Ms Miranda adored Paris. Rejuvenated her other times.

Should be happy Mr Stephen moved out. Better off without that monumental horse's ass.

Filling a kettle up. Isabella silently sat down across from her employer, kindly invited to join her. ''Ms Miranda.'' Hoped that rotten 'marido' hadn't done something to upset her employer's evening.

Miranda knew she _may_ have overreacted to Andrea Sachs. Admittedly she'd retaliated quite negatively to being kissed. By Andrea. Regretful she knew she shouldn't have had her fired, but Andrea _shouldn't _have kissed her. Specifically like that. It was so…biting her lip…so…unexpected. Still tasted it. Sent Miranda reeling. Typically she'd lashed out. Nastily. Andrea Sachs scared the hell out of her. Seen fire in Andrea's eyes. Looking at her like that, consuming her with those brown cognac coloured eyes. Admittedly she was afraid. She'd never been kissed by anybody like that before, not by Stephen or by Cassidy and Caroline's father. Unravelled. Sachs did that to her. She'd made her feel out of control. Everything Miranda Priestly was, had been neatly contained in The Dragon Lady reputation. Icy. Cruel. Unflinching. Prickly. Blunt. Hid behind it. An armour, a shield. She could not be vulnerable ever.

Miranda had strived in her career starting at Chic magazine in Paris, with the name Miriam Princhek had been an obstacle she'd overcome. Adapted. Had carved her own path in publishing. Remembered when she'd been interviewed for the Editor-in-chief position for a new Manhattan based magazine covering high fashion, she'd boldly informed the Board, she had many ideas and concepts for this untried periodical but have to take her on to see how incredible they were. Won her the job. Always knew what to say and what to do but not right now. At a loss. How to take back what she'd done. Impossible. Undo all of it except the kiss, that kiss was burnt into her perpetually. Branding her lips. Impossible now to unsay her cruel wounding words to Andrea Sachs. Was every bit the vile Dragon Lady who put the hurt into Andrea's eyes twice. Causing her to be fired. She closed her eyes she wished she could rewind.

Really mature Miranda. Getting her fired for what exactly? For kissing her, for wanting her.

Poured a cup of Isabella's chamomile tea whose kind eyes softened on her. Calmed her. Reminded Miranda of her _Savta (her grandmother)_ who'd raised her. Told countless times how she was similar to her mother in bite and looks. Had the photograph it was eerie. The similarity of looking so alike made her shiver. Even Nigel couldn't tell the difference when shown. Same Sephardic beauty.

Never known her mother, died in childbirth. Her birth.

''Ms Miranda what is bothering you?'' Isabella queried concerned. Miranda sighed, her words almost tumbling out about being kissed tonight by Andrea who she honestly thought she loathed and who loathed her. Mutually until that kiss. Certainly even more so after what she'd done to Andrea.

What was she supposed to do? Track Andrea down and demand why? How could she have known? That her ex-assistant wanted her. Wanted to have sex with her. Wasn't she living with some _male_ deli sandwich maker? Clearly not valuing monogamy Miranda mused coldly. Nigel had mentioned Andrea's live in boyfriend in passing once. Andrea was not a child far from it but still was a 23 year old who was born in 1983. _1983_. Miranda had been thirty four, married in Bermuda to her first husband. Frolicking on pink sandy beaches, snorkelling the turquoise waters. Part of ground breaking moments in her industry, meeting Karl Lagerfeld for his first Haute Couture show for Chanel. So young. Attending the Biennale Paris' 85 while Andy was watching what? Sesame Street.

Orbited completely different social circles. Nothing in common try zilch in that retrospect, Andrea would no doubt be the type of person into backpacking through Europe if she had a passport and willingly staying at unsanitary hostels. Probably had a subscription to Rolling Stone. Miranda's first impression of Sachs, a free spirit, slipshod and clearly ruled by unpredictable and impulse. Everything Miranda didn't live by.

Miranda could hear her _Savta _warning her about how her bashert would have to be a force of nature with her temperament to tame.

Andréa was not her basherte. No, not at all her soul mate. Who believes in that anyway? Hadn't thought of that word in years. Great Andrea Sachs has reduced you to speaking Yiddish.

''Mom!''

Cassidy and Caroline greeted her by being bounding into her arms, both pyjama clad eleven year olds. Rumpled the priceless couture gown didn't matter to Miranda. Glancing at the clock. 11:59. Excused from Isabella who stayed over on late evenings.

''To bed you two.''

Cass nudged Car, giving up on staying up one more minute up. Caroline protested lightly. '' It's Saturday tomorrow.'' Cass smirked. '' Mom it is tomorrow!'' Given a not amused look at her remark which could induce no fun this weekend if Cass pushed.

Guided upstairs, Patricia padded at the twins slippers and Miranda's stocking feet. Car studied their Mom carefully she looked _different_ than when she'd left. Something about her tonight. They had been eavesdropping on their Mom and Isabella. Yawning, Cass was kissed goodnight in bed, Car settled under her duvet deciding to ask out loud. '' Mom, you're not letting _him _come back, right?'' Her eyes the exactly same blue as her mother's except wide slightly worried. Miranda assured Caroline gently. ''Never.'' Kissed both goodnight. Inhaling the familiar scent of her babies. Ruffling Patricia fur as she jumped with a thud on Cass's bed.

No Stephen was never returning and Andrea Sachs was never entering Miranda's world or life again.


	8. Chapter 8

Andy felt numb as she'd gathered her things that her crummy landlord had rifled through to take in lieu of unpaid rent. Her TV, bed and a lot of what Nate and she had bought for their first place were now his. Not the too valuable stuff, Nate had taken all of that when he moved to Boston. His big break an award winning steak house. He'd snuck out during infamous Paris taking with him, her electronics, everything she'd paid for and all those copper pans and kitchen gadgets he couldn't live without that she had bought with her Runway Salary.

Help yourself. Slumlord. Like to that ugly lazy boy Nate had found on the street repaired it by putting electrical tape on the holes. He'd left that. Hated it. Or those thrift shop botanical plates she'd procrastinated over for their first dinner together in their big city apartment. How about Nate's birthday gift to her, a snow globe of NYC. Beat out the teddy bear and home depot gift card she received for Christmas.

If Andy had known how Nate would be so picky about labelling what was his and hers down to the edible contents in the fridge, when their living together was on the skids tethering on break up, would never have dated him. So childish. In all honesty she had eaten Nate's goat cheese caramelised onion tart and napoleons for his culinary exam with an esteemed Chef who'd written a gazillion books on cuisine, but that was beside the point, she was hungry, running around Manhattan ensuring errands for Miranda was havoc on stopping for lunch, like to see Nate survive Miranda Priestly with only crudités to consume like Emily.

Hadn't she made sacrifices been supportive attending every food festival in all five boroughs. From Taste the World to Taste Tribeca Andy had tried. For Nate. Hated the memories in this place now. Of them. None of it meant anything anymore. Nate was long gone. In Boston, now doing fantastically. Seeing someone new. He'd had a fresh start he'd left with what 6 months of rent to pay and left Andy with an angry landlord to deal with. Andy didn't want to think about Nate tonight. She didn't want to think of anyone tonight.

Just wanted to forget how messed up her life was at this moment.

What was she going to do? Hitchhike to her grandfather's. Give in finally and work for him. Nope. Sure who wouldn't want to work for the rest of your life with cattle in Texas or her Uncle's horses in Kentucky and Montana? Made it very clear why she mattered to him. Only because through Andy he could patch up everything ugly that happened between her mom and him. Thought he could fix everything, just like that, every insult of how her father wasn't good enough for Andy's Mom undone. Well Andy wasn't his shot at redemption. She wasn't crawling to him and telling him what a mess her life was and she sure as hell was not going to accept help from him. She had a shoebox full of unopened cards from him, maybe she should open them and see if there was any monetary gifts of guilt enclosed.

Andy's mom had never looked back when she eloped with her dad. Ran away, crazy in love in a '65 Mustang over the county line. Later Andy's grandfather blamed it on brat pack films. John Hughes scary as Communism. Saw in the framed photo true joy and bliss at city hall when they became Mr and Mrs Sachs. Six months later they had her. Andy inherited her mother's stubbornness and warm smile. Picked up everything she owned in two Hefty bags. Her few belongings. Andy had no idea where she'd sleep tonight. Seeming to exude more bravery than she felt. Andy's stepped outside, walking down her block. Starting to rain. Could it get any worse?

She clutched the garbage bag close. Second thought maybe she should bury her pride. Sniffling. Somewhere out there, was someone who cared if she was homeless tonight? Maybe she should phone him.

''Andy.''

Heard her name called. Lizzie jay walked across the street, exchanging good nature cursing with an irate yellow cab. She grinned shaking a bag full of take out and what looked like Krispy Kreme's. Yelling ''Comfort food to get over the job that sucked''. Her emo eyes took in the garbage bags and the look on Andy's face. Picking one up with her chunky ring clad hand. ''Moving, leaving the city? So soon. Absconding.'' Mouthing 'Evicted huh?' Andrea's eyes blurred stinging and heated, tears starting to slide. She had just been thinking of calling it quits and running away anywhere. Well to somewhere with open sky and mustang horses to be exact.

Lizzie was her saving grace, welcomed into her place, insisted stay forever or as long as you want type of offer. Shown around Lizzie's home. Kept her ex's record collection in retaliation, he loved those 2,000 albums more than her. It was satisfying like ripping his beating heart out of his cheating chest to keep them. Metaphorically. Lizzie's artwork was _different_. Andy heard how Lizzie was taking courses in entomology and taxidermy to expand her artwork. Lizzie sculptured and painted, her recent work was unique and provocative. Andy ran her long fingers, along sketchbooks and other mix media materials sprawled out. Lizzie insisting Andy should model for her. _Sure._ Andy stared at the nudes with pasted stars and insects. Vowing to herself absolutely _never_.

Given a key, made up the couch, Andy unpacked, soaking wet. Thrown a towel Lizzie cheerfully stated. ''My things are your things Andy.'' Me Casa is your Casa'

Andy borrowed a Guns and Roses T-shirt, had a choice of Nirvana or Green Day excused herself to the bathroom, unbuttoning her drenched black shirt that a few hours ago Miranda had been grasping to. Undoing her long chestnut brown hair, shaking it out.

Furrowing her brows at Miranda Priestly's negative reaction. Not the reaction Andy had hoped. To stay away from her. Andy shook her head bemused Miranda wasn't who she expected to ever feel this way for. If she'd known at her interview standing in Runway's office's that Miranda would be _the one_. Andy would have sought mental health therapy. Somewhere along the way she fell. Completely one sided. When Nate had told her the person who calls that's who you're in a relationship with had hit Andy. Every day before Paris had become torture, knowing she was completely invisible to Miranda, just another pair of hands. Slipping off her wet slacks, found a crumpled business card. Turned it over.

Chewing her lip. Wouldn't hurt to hear what Irv Ravitz was offering. Would it? He'd been very persistent as Andy had got on her train. Leaving Irv Ravitz staring after her. He wasn't the type of man used to a flat out no.

Miranda's stormy eyes and her warning ''Don't. Ever. Come. Near. Me. Again.'' Haunted her mind. Cautioned to stay away from Miranda Priestly like hell. Since when did Andy Sachs do what she was told?

Andy slid out her mobile, and dialled the number on the card.


	9. Chapter 9

Miranda Priestly had a restful weekend. Saturday was just for her and her girls. Bliss. Sleeping in, reading the NY Times in bed. Sunday she had a late brunch at her home with Alessandro de LaRossi who called on Saturday evening and was invited over.

Alessandro warmly greeted her in the doorway of her elegant 129 East 73rd townhouse. He'd brought flowers, a bouquet of white parrot tulips, her favourite and a shopping bag of gifts for their home.

Caroline and Cassidy were very taken with their exotic godfather Uncle Sandro, horrified them when he showed photos of them in diapers and feeding them bottles. Scandalised as Alessandro told them how _Marina's_ chinese silk blouse was spat up on by one of them. That was at 'Tavern on the Green' just after their christening, one ninny first assistant had offered to coat check the twins.

He was told in all seriousness 'they were not babies, we're eleven.' By the time they sat down to brunch, her twins were smitten with Signor de LaRossi, more than Kent Riley and Michael Striker in their classes. Miranda rolled her eyes as her girls' vied for Alessandro's attention. Marina had once boasted Alessandro could charm anyone. Anyone with female chromosomes'.

They were upstairs now teaching him Wii. Cassidy and Caroline showed off their ribbons for dressage. Although, Miranda had to persuade the twins not to show off their tae kwon do kicks to Alessandro or on Alessandro.

Teased at being sincerely promised a tour of the Costume Institute, implored a rain check, and already spent this Sunday together. Apologising for Cassi and Car for being so exuberant. Alessandro insisted the twins were wonderful to get to know again.

''Their vibrant and enchanting no doubt inherited from their Madre.'' Alessandro and Marina had always wanted to have children. He sipped his wine, looking longingly after her children, wishing he had something of his wife left behind.

He was in the city for three more days staying at Plaza Athenee on East 64th at Madison. It took a lot of persuading for Cassi and Car to go to bed, entranced with Alessandro. Wanting to talk with him all night.

Sandro lit the fireplace for Miranda, cedar logs burnished as Alessandro grinned at Mira, who today didn't look as upset as last night. At the Gala table, he'd wondered with concern what had it been to shake her up so? What had caused that upset? That dismissed waitress had been watching Miranda intimately. The one with vivid eyes that never left his oldest friend. It had not been lost on him that Miranda had been watching the girl but pretending not to. It wasn't like his old friend to be so spiteful.

Pouring another glass of red wine from the bottle he'd brought. ''Mira tell me more about what Irving Ravitz is up to.'' Swirling and sniffing his glass of burgundy, Miranda exhaled leaning her head against the cushions. Running a slender hand through her iconic silver white hair.

''Irv wants me out by next fourth quarter.'' Alessandro voiced his protest, his oldest friend did not deserve this continued treachery against her. Alessandro's serious brows rose on his face, _**Runway **_was Mira's life. Correction Miranda was Runway.

Remembering a few months ago, receiving an upset phone call from Mira asking him if he'd pledge his support to her among others, she'd discovered a possible coup, if she was ever removed from her position as Editor-in-Chief she wanted his support, his backing. She would if removed take the portfolio with her of many she'd shaped and made into leading couturiers, designers, photographers, style scions, that's how legendary Miranda Priestly was in fashion. Many vowed they'd follow the doyenne of style anywhere.

Irv would be lucky if he got dog food and denture cleaner for advertisers if he ousted Miranda Priestly.

Alessandro's sincere answer. 'Did Mira need to even ask him if he'd be behind her over anything she needed', he would stand by Mira anytime without hesitation. He would help her start a new magazine if she only asked.

Miranda knew without a doubt Sandro was the truest of friends. Listening to her by telephone as a consoling confidant, on quite a few late night's calls and with the six hour time difference in Toscana for Alessandro about that worthless Stephen and his indiscretions.

Alessandro frowned darkly, Stephen was a worm, faxing papers for a divorce to his wife in Paris, during the busiest time on Mira's calendar. Mira did not need that blow or this, having to worry about a possible takeover.

''Than we fight.'' Clinking glasses.

Miranda beamed, needed Alessandro's loyalty and strength, she valued him as her dearest friend. Sandro had been shattered by Marina's death. No one just simply recovered from a loss of someone you woke up to every day and loved. Marina was his earth.

She felt terrible how she'd once envied Marina at one time, having Alessandro. By her side. A partner who would do anything for her. Alessandro had loved Marina completely without fear. Loved her insanely, crazily and selflessly. Nursed her when she went through six cycles of chemotherapy. Insisted she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life when she lost her hair. Miranda had heard from Marina how Alessandro told her with such conviction, holding her with teary eyes 'I did not marry you for just your lustrous shoulder length hair, Marina'.

She remembered Marina had once pointed out just before her last remission three years ago, that Miranda should keep herself open to the possibility of love. It was easy to believe in love when you had a love like Marina and Alessandro. Love to Miranda was an unobtainable emotion for her. She had never been that lucky in love.

She had been teased by Marina who was feeling better each day, who had kept assuring her that 'her love' could sometime be right there under your nose, _the one._

_The one_, try finding that in Manhattan's superficial dating scene that was like hunting for a rare endangered species. The one was as rare and unfindable as a unicorn.

_She could still remember her comments back. Her thoughts on the suggestion of finding someone. _No doubt she'd scare _the one_ away with her sometimes to candid nature. Splendid she'd tell her new neurotic second assistant Emily to promptly take out a want ad, seeking love. Picture the heading. ''Powerful intimidating divorcee with twins and one St Bernard who has no time for intimacies because she runs an magazine staffed by imbeciles seeks someone crazy enough to be part of. Please jump in and sign on.'' Pinching her nose bridge, have to start dating again. Hated dating like being entrapped for an entire evening with someone in charm school.

Marina at the time in Runway Milano's headquarters had held her sapphire blue eyes thoughtfully caringly assured '' Mira my carissima amica, don't hide behind this shield you protect your heart with.'' Promised. ''Whomever your one is Mira, I have no doubt you'll both be soul mates. When you find them, let that person enfold you with this.'' Pressed her own heart. Miranda shook her head at that corny analogy of her lack of love life. Soul mates do not find you at her age.

Then she met Stephen.

Love hadn't been, Stephen or her first husband. Miranda wanted someone to not just be in bed with, but held by someone who didn't care if you looked less than perfect, or had a cold. Maybe she didn't want to be cold aloof Miranda Priestly for a while. She wanted someone to 'See her'. See her softness. Talk to her, really talk to. Take an interest in what she said, not just nod, half listen and talk about tax law. Share with them everything even the little mundane things that bored Stephen. Like how she liked the summer rain, wanted to feel sparks with someone, be kissed by someone, really kissed by them. Spoon with them. Breathe them in your veins until you didn't know where you begin and they end. Scolding herself, maybe in romcoms Miranda.

Felt like an alien when Marina described Alessandro's first attempt at cooking for her as a surprise that required a fire extinguisher and burn salve. Everything of their very memorable breakfast in bed was cremated. Miranda knew Stephen wouldn't have made any such effort for her.

Would Andrea? She blinked at the name, why in the world was she thinking of Andrea in the same context as 'the one'?

**Monday Morning**

8:00am

Sally in HR had five things for survival at Runway. Looking at the huge personnel folder of Miranda Priestly's slew of revolving personal assistants' over the years. Downright snide handwritten assessments' by the snarky Editor herself filled the bull clipped file. Each one varied with reasons for being dismissed. Most too stupid, too sloppy, too plebeian, too dumpy, too fat (the girl was a size 8) too airheaded with lack of concentration or one candidate that possessed the attention span of someone concussed. There was the one who hid in the bathroom till night cleaners came and another who went out on one of Miranda's countless errands and never bothered to return. Sally had been sent a post card from one former assistant now calmer being a corrections officer at maximum security prison. Less stressed out.

Sally grimaced, her five things to cope were on her desk, lined up, Pepto Bismol, numbing OxyContin for ensuing panic attacks( and this job for Sally caused that ) and Prozac and a sense of humour and the faint hope she'd survive to retirement and enjoy her 401k. No amount of fruit baskets, chocolate cluster fudge and Broadway tickets could make her enjoy her job or endear her to the plight of selecting the perfect candidate for the impossible Ms Priestly on the 17th floor of Elias Clarke Building. Processing a new employee starting today. Goody. Not at Auto Universe. First day at Runway. Kill her now, Sally groaned inwardly. Glancing at the name.

A. Sachs. Good luck.

8:30am

Irv Ravitz's executive secretary Cece paled as Miranda Priestly stepped off the elevator. Cece nervously offered Perrier or Pellegrino or a demitasse of pressed espresso from their out of this world Kees Van de Westen maker. Cece recalled how her mother warned her countless times not to babble idly she usually said stupid things right off the top of her head.

Complimenting Ms Priestly's snowy hair, bold for a woman of her age to not dye it.

Given a withering glare, Cece was ushered away from the Editor-in-Chief by prissy Emily.

Emily grimaced at the faux pas.

Cece was ignored by the feared Editor. Announcing Ms Priestly to her boss by telephone warning.

Miranda was not in any mood for one of Irving Ravitz newest strumpet's. Surely she was missed at glee club or cheerleading practise.

Immacutely coiffed Miranda pursed her lips, tense, so Irving wanted to begin this now. Snatching the memorandum held by Emily. Scanning it swiftly Miranda read it. A one to one meeting with Irving, did not bode well to Miranda. What was Irv Ravitz up to?

Irving Ravitz made Miranda Priestly see red, he was a slithering, rattled when he walked chauvinist, a pompous dinosaur. Vile little gremlin playing corporate games against her. Recalling years ago, fresh from her Parisian expertise at one photo shoot, the first time they were acquainted, Irving Ravitz's behaviour with a pouty internationally renowned supermodel posed with a snow tiger in an priceless evening gown made Miranda recoil in apt horror how he kept ogling the nubile 6'1 goddess who had graduated cum laude and had a Ph.D. in neurobiology. Wanted to show her his fire engine red Ferrari and propositioned her lewdly to be his mistress right in front of them. Appalled at his Neanderthal lecherous approach, that vile man was as subtle as a hyena in heat. Bristling coolly at the situation he had caused, Miranda did damage control with the model who was fluent in five languages including Mr Ravitz crude crass boorish innuendos. It was blamed at the time on Irv's cocaine addiction.

Informing a newly appointed Nigel Kipling, Irving was not welcomed on shoots ever again. Had half a mind to sic the majestic feline on Irving Ravitz to cure his out of control libido. This was before one could file sexual harassment in the workplace.

Emily looked like a panicked deer in headlights, sputtering and struggling to explain to Miranda why she was due right now to attend an unexpected meeting sprung on her itinerary that neither knew anything about.

Emily swallowed mollified, her face as red as her hair in mortification, she'd failed Miranda by not foreseeing this surprise meeting with the CEO that had just been announced less than thirty minutes ago. Left Miranda's presence in disgrace.

Entered Irving Ravitz's sleek office.

Miranda Priestly hated Mondays mornings.


	10. Chapter 10

Irving Ravitz loved Monday's particularly this Monday morning. His investments on the FTSE and Nikkei and the CAC 40 were yielding profitably from his overseas brokers and Irv's favourite sports team he betted on had won the playoffs on the weekend. Could life be any better for this blithely CEO of Elias Clarke Holdings?

Yes it could, as Irv smugly basked in the assuredness that Miranda Priestly's intended downfall in the form of one former assistant, had called him, leaving a message of acceptance on his voice mail in the early hours of Saturday.

Irv had to begrudgingly hand it to Miranda Priestly surviving this long in an industry that only valued youth and limberness as the symbol of beauty to sell Runway issues. Priestly was a woman of certain age whom should retire, by force in Irv's opinion.

Obviously Miranda should take time for herself and go learn to crochet or play canasta and attend bingo nights. Enjoy her golden retirement to the fullest.

Greeting Miranda airily, her vivid unblinking jewel blue eyes always unnerved Irv. Uneased him like a predator's eyes at a zoo exhibit in the reptile house. Irv wasn't blind he knew Miranda didn't care for him one iota. When the Board had chosen the alluring Parisian experienced former Editor of 'Chic' to take up the banner of Runway he'd never been able to endear himself to the frosty shiksa. It was like she saw right through him and all his inadequacies.

The Board had been so impressed and captivated with the continental glamour of a twenty eight year old Miranda Priestly, who was offered an unrivalled generous package of employment, including resettlement in a luxurious townhouse on the Upper East Side which Priestly later bought in her early 30s. To Irv's displeasure even when she was pregnant, the Board didn't put up a fuss they were thrilled. In those months, he'd hoped The Dragon Lady would want to be domesticated and embrace that overwhelming urge of hormonal nesting and impending joy of motherhood and realise how she could find little to no fulfilment or contentment as the head of a leading fashion magazine. Simply must be a Mother like Erma Bombek or June Cleaver and would just step aside as Runway's Editor and be a stay at home mother changing diapers.

But no Miranda even made pregnancy easy, a cinch, giving birth to two baby dragons (twins!) hadn't stopped her duties and devotion to Runway. Still Miranda Priestly seamlessly produced the most successful publication in their portfolio of holdings. Covers that became iconic and were a ground breaking blend of pop culture and elegance. Her success after success infuriated Irv. The Dragon grated on him. Yet she was a domestic disaster on the matrimonial front. Couldn't keep a spouse, a Mr Priestly. The last heading on Page Six, '' No Longer Married to NYC & Runway's Only Living Heart Donor'' still made Irv Ravitz chuckle with ridicule.

Wondered if the rumours were true taking Miranda Priestly to bed was like having a brr brr iceberg between the sheets. Poor S.O.B. scraping frost off his boxers.

Irv strongly felt 'Women have roles', meant to be in places where they belong in, like in the kitchen or the bedroom or greeting their hard working husbands and put up with rampant infidelity and adultery and being pathologically ignored. Raise the kids whatever their names were.

Miranda Priestly didn't fit the mould of any woman Irv had ever encountered in business or Manhattan. Like some Old Masters portrait of a flinty impervious glacial beauty. Untouchable. Above everyone else. She was a platinum haired non-conforming ball buster of a broad who dared to run her magazine her way. There was little doubt to Irv, Miranda Priestly was the most ill-tempered feminist shrewish harridan he'd ever encountered in his corporate kingdom.

Irving Ravitz thought of himself as a charming man of the world, urbane and cultured, hell he owned a Basquiat and a Damien Hirst cow, dined on emu meatballs, Japanese and Korean odori don and Ikizukuri and consumed Adam Melonas 'octopops' at the Burj al Arab like any true sophisticate and listened to Tupac, 50cent and Ludacris and it infuriated Irv to no end that Priestly detested him for no good reason other than him being his delightfully debonair self.

Irv liked to believe the way he approached business was crafted from Sun Tzu 'The Art of War'.

Plastering on a wide grin to his mortal enemy. Feeling very chipper, Irv welcomed the Ice Queen to be seated inside his lair.

Miranda took in Irving Ravitz cautiously, a jovial Irv was foreboding. Graciously greeting him. ''Irving a pleasure as always.'' Sitting down across from him aloofly. Giving no indication of unease if he was about to dethrone her, Miranda steeled herself with the knowledge that her protégés and many colleagues aligned with her and would not support whatever vulgar image Jacqueline Follet would envision for a revamped '_Runway'_.

Even Nigel. After Paris, Miranda had made it up to Nigel, she had felt terrible to take away his dream of becoming Creative Director for James Holt, but Irv's treachery had to be dealt with, with necessary sacrifices. Besides, Nigel was now in a better place at Runway thanks partly to Miranda's guilt not that Nigel would ever admit to knowing that.

Genuinely startled by Andréa's warning that day in Paris, it had almost seemed real worry, no hidden agendas, just pure concern in deep brown eyes. Than the car ride happened along the Place de la Concorde with her earnest former assistant who looked at her with unequivocal disdain. Miranda narrowed her eyes, now was not the time to be thinking of Sachs, and already had a restless night trying to figure out a way to approach Andréa again.

Maybe if Sachs didn't irritate her so much, she'd be inclined enough to sort of briefly apologise for having her maliciously fired at the Gala. But only after Sachs grovelled enough to her about having the insane audacity of kissing her during their argument.

Later she would have to have Emily find Sach's personal details with HR, recalled she lived on the lower East Side somewhere. Miranda decided while watching Irv and declining a carafe of orange juice, she'd demand Nigel tell her where Andréa Sachs lived.

They were close, Miranda had discovered his not so secret rendezvous, a few days after Andrea's abrupt and sudden departure. Had half a mind when Nigel returned from his supposed hot lunch date he'd implied, to call him out on feeding ex-employees. Street corner hot dog stands or troughs were more fitting.

Than some liberal no doubt shave on the metro morning commute, chinos and socks with sandals anorak wearing Editor of the beacon of the just and social inequal called, asking about Andy, she'd taken the call personally just as Emily had snottily said Ms Priestly never gives references, the fellow had been floored speaking with the legendary silver haired Miranda Priestly herself.

For one moment of out of character goodwill Miranda had responded positively to that grubby little New York Mirror rag paper seeking a reference for one Andy Sachs, Andréa she corrected him on the other end of the line, he'd eagerly wanted to establish Sach's employable attributes and abilities from her former Bosses perspective. Miranda meant every word of being the greatest disappointment to her and this Editor would be a fool if he did not hire her at once. It was to show Sachs she wasn't petty or held grudges. Paved Sach's road to mundane journalism, could see her being riveted to write about road works and obituaries, sanitation strikes and The Mayor's office for the rest of her sad little life.

Miranda even sent off the recommendation by her own hand by fax since Emily seemed to have developed dementia to where the fax machine was or how to send one.

Than saw Sachs standing on the sidewalk across from her, strangely looking over in that moment Miranda had felt Andrea nearby, than that dolt waved to The Dragon Lady. Maybe one does that in Dog patch or Happy Ville County where Sachs was reared in, but not to Miranda Priestly outside her office building!

Miranda cleared her head of thoughts regarding Sachs.

''Irv it's always Irv to you Miranda.'' Smiling congenially at. In Miranda's opinion Irv was beaming a little too much was he doing narcotics again or mixing medications.

Irv handed Miranda a few documents, in the words of Sun Tzu surprise your enemy with unexpected flattery. ''Now Miranda I want to put our hostilities aside… you've lead Runway to the incomparable monumental success it is today. Wholly due to your magnificent vision which as you told me in Paris a few months back, no one can replace or reproduce you. I agree entirely to that declaration you made to me in October.'' Irv schooled his face to an insincere look of admiration.

Smiling weirdly at her again.

Miranda remained stony still why was Irving Ravitz admitting to '_Runway'_ being nothing without her. Irv's meaty palm almost contacted with her shoulder to give a reassuring squeeze but Irv remembered the do not touch Miranda rule.

''So Miranda that's why I am extending your tenure for the next ten years with my full faith in you. Completely.'' Indicating the documents, a contract he'd drafted with lawyers. ''Now if you'll just sign.'' Miranda was still trying to ascertain as to why the sudden support to her from Irving Ravitz, signing each document with a fountain tip pen.

A memorandum of agreement was included, binding between Elias Clark Holdings and one Miranda Priestly. Disclosing how in her role as Editor-in-Chief of Runway, detailing how she'd nurtured raw new talent for the sole benefit of Elias Clarke Holdings. Noted there would be penalties including removal of position if one party negates on any signed promise set forth in the signed contract. Hardly read it, just signed her name.

Irv smiled at the fresh ink of Miranda Priestly's signature.

'' Now I know you've never particularly warmed to me Miranda have you?''

Miranda face etched indifference. ''Irv, I never particularly warmed to my last husband either.'' Her blue eyes like chips of ice. Miranda Priestly didn't do small talk.

'' See Miranda I want us to start anew, afresh! I have an exciting prospect I want you to consider.'' Irv words made Miranda's eyes widen, startled by them. What proposal?

Miranda rolled her eyes, here was the real reason to why Irv was being so amicable towards her. Listening to Irv prattle. He wanted something.

''I've found a new writer for Runway. Edgy. Hip. Current.''

''I want a New Section in Runway. I'm thinking Lifestyle or Travel.''

Miranda inwardly groaned, whomever Irv had found would be unsuitable. Anyone who would associate themselves willingly with Irv Ravitz and be approached by him would probably have written for a Cigar Aficionado Quarterly or a Pin up Lingerie Periodical like the objectified females 'girlie mag' porn she'd once caught Stephen sans boxers captivated with buxom Miss September centerfold.

God help her if it was Christian Thompson that golden haired plagiarising drivel spewing wonder boy writer whose only need for improvement was having an enforced chemical castration. Thompson was a guile user and a reprobate with his butter doesn't melt simpering boyish charm a completely affected scarf wearing lothario. Just breathe Miranda it couldn't be anyone worse than Thompson.

''Let me just get 'our' new writer, so you both can meet.''

Miranda frowned as he practically bounced out of the office. He was up to something, wanting to prove he pulled the strings. That he was in charge. She'd humour him and make sure this new writer didn't last long.

Irv led the new member of staff into his sleek office.

Watching the priceless moment unfolding. The ever composed Miranda Priestly looked downright shell shocked, Irv's mouth curled into a smirk, thinking I finally have the upper hand. Finally I win, I got one over you Miranda. Turning to pour himself a rare 1926 Macallan whiskey on the rocks it was nine in morning and who cared it was time to celebrate. The Ice Queen was cracking.

Miranda stared wordlessly at the writer. Irv had finally done it. Made her see red. Her eyes narrowing into glacial blue chips at his turned back.

Irv turned his ice clinking patting the girl's shoulder with an affectionate pat ''This is your new writer Miranda.''

Miranda met the comment with stony silence staring witheringly at Andy Sachs.

**Authors Note:) Massive Thank you to Carissa, Fann, Jehc, Jh728, Cstotts1, Perks 321 and RSG80 for all of your kind reviews. More very soon.**


	11. Chapter 11

Andy Sachs was back at 'Runway' and Miranda hadn't said two words to her the whole elevator ride down. Swallowing about to say something to the very alarmingly taciturn Miranda Priestly standing in the elevator beside her rigid as a wax work at Madame Tussads.

''Miranda I…'' Andy tried to think of something to say, anything like the weather in Dakar or Tenerife or how nice she looked this morning which Miranda did, smelled great, breathing in the scent of her newly appointed Boss, no work colleague she was a writer now. A writer, awesome. Most importantly as Chairman Irv Ravitz had suggested to stay close to Miranda which Andy intended to do.

'' Don't.'' Miranda hissed. Bristling with fury and seething through clenched white teeth. Why in hell had she signed that piece of _'trapped together for a year' _contract without looking over it more carefully? Should have had her lawyers advise but in truth, Irv had caught her off guard and Miranda wanted to just sign and be done with it. Believing it was just her employment contract renewed. Irv had been holding it over Miranda for the last three months. Thus why she was endearing herself at the Gala Benefit to The Board of Trustees and Directors. This cannot be happening, Sachs and her together for a set year. A year! Irv had goaded her. Knowing she couldn't just dismiss Sachs now, because than Miranda would have to resign her position as well because of not honouring her contract of mentoring and cultivating all new talent for Runway to benefit Elias Clarke Holdings. Nurturing new talent. Getting rid of Andréa would make her a hypocrite and would make Miranda Priestly's word and signatory no good and imply that she didn't honour her contracts.

Like hell she'd step aside. Damn Irv Ravitz tricking her. That sneaky little weasel. It was binding and unbreakable by her own elegant signature. Ironclad. Stuck like glue to Andréa Sachs for the next twelve months.

Miranda Priestly pinched her patrician nose bridge she could feel a headache beginning it wasn't even 9:30, coming to the 17th floor. Tensing her shoulders. She'd make this work somehow, a year with Sachs will fly by. This was March, Sachs would be gone by next March. 52 weeks. 365 days spent with Sachs. Vowing to herself she can handle being around Andréa. Despite their kiss.

Besides it was just irritating unpredictable goofy grating Sachs, who'd never written anything that had been remotely published to the quality of Runway. Recalling in their first time meeting Andréa had said how she'd edited an insignificant student journal and few articles she did in college on exploited Janitor Unions. Swallowing hopelessly. It was obvious all was doomed. Exploited Janitors to Couture and Fashion so hand in hand in comparison.

One thought, strangle or poison Irv Ravitz, no get Emily to do so.

Andrea had better never mention that kiss. Ever. Stepping off the elevator. ''Follow. Me. Now.''

It was the talk of the office by lunch. Andy Sachs was back at '_Runway' _willingly. To put Miranda in an even sourer mood, Irv had sent down ideas for 'their' new little writer. Miranda had demanded Emily bring her a container of Tylenol for the impending day long migraine she knew would develop. In times like this Miranda wished she could just go back to being Miriam Princhek of Newham, London.

Irv had the remarkable idea to provide a few excursions he'd bidded on at the Gala's Silent Auction, sending a list by email. Miranda read the list like the paper was on fire.

No way in hell was The Dragon Lady embarking on any one of these activities with Andrea. No. Never. Miranda was certainly not going to taste valrhona chocolate champagne truffles or experience _' Beach, Blanket, Sparks & Bonfire'_ would rather have a root canal without anaesthesia than spend any personal bonding time with Sachs. Meant for couples not her and Sachs. Leaning back in her leather chair, she'd have to face Andréa sometime today. She kicked off her Jimmy Choos, massaging her temples. How was she to look at Andrea every day and look into her eyes as an equal?

Emily Charlton didn't know if she was witnessing a mirage, Andrea Sachs was here in the office, she hadn't been ordered to have Sachs escorted away by security yet. Working again for '_Runway' _and Miranda had that look in her eyes, Emily hadn't seen in five months, wonderful Sachs not only returns but is determined like a wrecking ball to rile her Boss to be even more turbulently miffed at _everything_ just by being near one another. Here Emily was hoping for a nice sedate Monday of sending gormless Haley out on every single errand from Madison Avenue to Soho to Lower Manhattan.

Like last Friday when Haley had to pick up Patricia at the groomers, order a cello for Caroline, collect accessories for a run through, deliver documents for Miranda's ongoing divorce, collect Miranda's priceless jewellery for the Gala Benefit, inform Nigel that absolutely no to that garish tacky spread on that euro trash designer who is clearly colour blind, reserve a table at 'Pastis' for Tuesday, have deliverers pick up that hideous painting Stephen gave her for their 2nd wedding anniversary and taken to Christies asap, send that little gift to the Governor's wife, get Miranda that NYT bestseller novel she wanted to read on the weekend, find that article in LeMonde or Paris Match two years ago she was riveted by, have that exact floral peonies 'and tuber rose arrangement made for her townhouse foyer she saw once at an Ambassador' cocktail party she attended, buy that artwork at the Gagosian she previewed on Monday, alter Miranda's membership privileges' to exclude Stephen from the Metropolitan Club and his Racquet Club, rsvp that she will attend the Orpheus Gala and American Ballet Theatre Spring Gala and the President's Council Spring Dinner, get that lamp she liked from that interior on Fifth Avenue, book that make-up artist that studied with Kevin Aucoin to meet her at the townhouse, have Roy arrive at 8pm sharp.

In Emily's opinion Haley just needed to prioritise and cope with every request at a leisurely pace. While poor time deprived and bogged down Emily sat willingly at her desk answering an exhausting gazillion phone calls for Miranda least one call ever go to voicemail. Emily was plain gobsmacked Sachs was their new writer of Lifestyle for '_Runaway',_ a ping, glancing at it, the subject in the email almost made Emily fall off her chair at Miranda's request. With a huffing flounce went in search of Sachs.

Heavens, good bye to life at Runway as she knew it.

''No. Not in Runway.'' Andy's mouth firmed at Miranda's Priestly's utter stubbornness every idea she'd run by Miranda was shot down and derided by The Dragon Lady. Their lunch might as well have been the nuclear non-proliferation negotiations. With each idea refuted, Andy felt pleasing or satisfying Miranda with the perfect storyline was as likely to happen for Andy as surviving surfing the killer waves of Todos Santos or getting water from the Moon or Mars.

Andy stabbed her lunch of Venezuelan tumbarranchos sitting across from her former boss, who was eating a kale salad with balsamic vinegeratte. Irritated with Miranda's attitude towards her. Not once had Miranda's lapis blue eyes met hers. Like she was avoiding letting her eyes meet Andy's. Was she ever going to bring it up? Getting her fired, destroying what was left of her dignity, oh who cares about her dignity when the hell was she going to bring up that kiss? Her eyes narrowed on Miranda.

''Don't fume _Andréa_ it's very unbecoming.'' A cold smile quirked at the corners of Miranda's mouth. Andy felt a prickle of frisson, why did Miranda's accent have to caress her name like that, no one else's voice did. No one except the same person that she'd kissed Friday night, sitting across from her, having lunch together who cruelly ignored her and bluntly ridiculed her storylines. Apparent Miranda wasn't truly euphoric unless everyone around her was panicked, nauseous or suicidal and despondent. Shaking Andy's confidence to shreds.

''Andy. Just call me Andy.'' Miranda never had called her Andy, it was always inflected 'Ahndreyah'. Like she was some exotic plant specimen from Polynesia or the French Antilles or an Italian leather handbag that cost a small country's gdp. Andy was not a bespoke crocodile skin purse. Had to cut it out, imagining other ways of husking out her name like that…slowly and very breathlessly. Simple Sachs concentrate on all of Miranda's Priestly's flaws. So many. Andy knew all of them. Benefits of being Miranda's once resident flunky minion. Saw all of the ugly bitter sides of The Snow Queen. Besides still Miranda had made her be fired right in front of her, after being freaked out over being kissed by her. Who does that? Only Miranda Priestly reaping revenge. Andy could only imagining what dating her was like. Being here with Miranda, taking this job was well deserved payback, a taste of her own vitriol apathetic medicine. Maybe. Sniggering into a snort, almost inhaling her organic peach ice tea, coming out of her nose. Great sweep her off her feet Sachs.

Miranda shook her head from side to side chiding. ''Absolutely never. _Andr__éa__._'' With pinched two fingers given a napkin. Miranda sneered. '' Honestly do I have to civilise you also by teaching you basic table manners of keeping your fluids to yourself not just have to hold your hand through copywriting.'' Shaking her head. '' I suppose next I'll be compelled to teach you to breathe with your mouth closed.''

Andy wiped her mouth, breathed through her nose counting to ten. First Priestly flaw, zero compliance and capitulation. The Cold War ceded more.

''I know, how about an article on myself tongue wrestling with one prissy highly strung, uptight and stuck up fashion editor frigidly in need of getting laid.''

Gotcha Priestly, finally Miranda looked at her. Long and hard. Pursed lips. Stormy blue eyes were piercing into Andy's, worse than 'Cerulean' time. Yikes, you're not fireproof Sachs. Incoming poked and highly agitated blazing Dragon before you.

_Andréa_ without question made Miranda stir to anger more than any of her ex-husbands in fact Sachs pissed her off royally more than the pair of them combined. Sachs provoked and nettled her mentioning that knee buckling osculation between them. Brazen gall. How dare her former assistant blatantly broach it right to her face to face? In and out Miranda just exhale and inhale from yoga, tranquillity and serenity. Her career was not going to go down the drain because of Andrea Sachs, writer of a measly article covering ostracized U bend cleaners.

Hissing waspishly at her lunchtime companion. ''Listen to me you vile sex crazed nympholist cretin you will never and I mean _never_ mention that …kiss that you forced on me ever again to me…specifically here at my magazine! It has taken me years, years to get to this position in an industry you deride and judge is just about frivolous _stuff_ to wear and look pretty in.'' Miranda spoke every word softly but edged. Miranda's aversion for Sachs was creschendoing in intensity. '' Perhaps you fail to grasp the concept, you _will _write what I your Editor picks for you to write about, understood.'' Andy wordlessly swallowed. '' Now despite my full trepidation, you and I are here and we're forced together…Miranda mouth formed a crocodile smile and eyes narrowed…' for the next 12 months. Do. Not. Let. Me. Down. _Andréa. _Here are my terms for this ill-omened partnership of ours. Sachs you will accompany me to wherever I say and listen and write notes, you will be punctual and most of all be there, no excuses, if I say 6am you will be there, because if you're not I will show up at whatever hovel you call a home and step into that pathetic dwelling and rip you out of your comfy little squalid bed.'' Andy liked the sound of one part, shame she was on Lizzie's couch. Miranda flushed at the bed comment she'd made, getting up from the mahogony table in the executive dining room of Elias-Clarke Building. ''Emily will send you the first story I want researched thoroughly and Emily will acquire a phone for you, I suggest waterproof. Good Day Andréa.'' Never forgetting her social graces.

Andy watched the most antagonizing scathing coldly indifferent person she'd ever encountered leaving her without a backwards glance, wondering what the hell happened to make Miranda Priestly into such a person. Andy knew one thing she was going to have to look up the meaning of nympholist.

.


	12. Chapter 12

''_Andréa,_ you're 10 minutes late'' Andy Sachs still couldn't believe Miranda Priestly had instigated this, would they survive a weekend alone together. Was anyone's guess most of all Andy's? Wondering if a distress S.O.S can be seen from The Hamptons. Should she have left dental records with Lizzie?

Emily had only told Andy she'd be accompanying Miranda on Friday mid-morning to be ready to leave at 4pm. Given Miranda's itinerary, invited for three days to her little Beach House in Meadow Lane Southampton.

Miranda had told her the first draft she'd sent was abysmal, compared it to the quality of an atrocious jingle for kitty litter. It wasn't that bad in Andy's opinion, she researched and googled everything on the list of subjects given, the NY Rose Society no doubt next assignment Opera Season, an Organic Honey Boutique owned by a former model, a foreign film Andy still didn't yet understand the point or ending of, maybe if La Priestly gave her a subject that was actually interesting not so mind numbing dull.

Roy helped Andy with her large bag that she'd rushed to Lizzie's place on her lunch hour to pack. Procrastinated what to bring, deciding whatever you want to damn well wear Sachs because you're going to the beach! Whoo Hoo. Deserved this seaside getaway had been at _Runway_ for six weeks. Six weeks of Miranda's constant snide belittling. Andy's Whoo Hoo was short lived, dawning on her going to the beach with Miranda. Killjoy.

Still taken aback at being Miranda's houseguest for the weekend.

What would Miranda throw her way? Knew one thing for certain they weren't going to be making fireside s'mores or frolic in the sand and surf. Did Miranda know how to loosen up? Didn't have to be so uptight all the time. Lizzie had a more colourful rude description of Miranda Priestly '_BWSUHB_' (bitch with stick up her behind) that didn't go down well with Andy one lunchtime she'd dropped by Runway with a forgotten notebook. Lizzie met Miranda.

Andy had introduced Lizzie to a unusually quiet Nigel maybe he was afraid of true follower of no mainstream fashion and to Emily who sputtered too run ragged to converse with Goth bike couriers and well Miranda had just been Miranda to Lizzie, clear as day both of them did not like one another immediately and Lizzie wearing everything you do not wear, piercings and dog collar and Lizzie recognised Miranda being that stuck up woman that got her friend fired at the Gala. Later, Lizzie had insisted over lunch together on the park steps when she'd been introduced as Andy's roommate there was a _look_ from Miranda. Andy pondered over the _look _she'd missed, as she slipped inside Miranda's chauffeured town car.

1 hour and 58 minutes of quality time together on this road trip. _Great_. Andy stole a small glance at Miranda who looked stiffly straight ahead with her signature sunglasses. Andy knew the rules no talking to Miranda in moving vehicle. Period. _Fine._

Lip curled at Sachs who was about to drown out her Editor with her itunes playlist. Scrolling albums. Yes Sachs, was a bonafide zombie trance ipod pedestrian mainly on the subway, crank up that volume and everything's a happy blur. About to tap Gin Blossoms or Goo Goo Dolls Greatest Hits no Best of Nickelback. Tough call.

Miranda shook her head scathingly, Sachs was determined to be completely deaf by twenty five. Pulled by ear buds cord towards her. Noses almost touched. Muted.

''_Andréa,_ this is not Spring Break girls gone wild.''

Andy could not believe it, Miranda Priestly had just confiscated her music. Was she in school?

''Let me enlighten you on some of my rules as my houseguest Sachs you _will_ uphold my rules. Leave _any _mess in my kitchen clean it up. Mar or maul _anything_ and you'll replace it. Want to stroll on the beach do so _alone_. In fact do any activity you wish to pursue at your own leisure. _Alone_ '' Miranda turned away briskly, looking out the blurring shapes through tinted windows. She hadn't looked at Andy once during putting down her ground rules. Miranda still held her ipod in her clasped manicured hand.

Whew. Here Andy thought she'd have a terrible time with vivacious and so warmly hospitable Miranda. The poor twins and the poor dog what did they do for fun in the Hamptons house of strict anal perfection.

Andy had never seen a more enchanting place, just a little beach house, Nooo, it was lovely, huge and right on the sandy dunes, inside was just as breath taking with clean striped blue and white dhurrie rug. Gracious, elegant and relaxed creamy white and soft blues throughout.

Note to self Sachs, under no circumstances consume red beverages during your stay. Rows of French doors leading out to the beachfront, Miranda's beach. She couldn't wait to sink her toes in that soft sand.

Breathing out ''It's incredible.''

Miranda was slightly bemused at Andrea's complete awed naiveté, always blurted out the first thing out of her mouth whereas Miranda was cynical and jaded, of course it was incredible Miranda wanted to snippily retort back. She only picked the very best. Took months selecting the right blue. Handpicked everything at small nautical and antique boutiques in Watermill and Sag Harbour for interiors. 18 million paid for secluded and the finest in a property. It should.

Glanced nonchalantly at the seashell wreath hanging above the mantle, the beach glass and driftwood that the girls had collected. She once considered selling it, this house. Couldn't. The Beach House had been burnt with moments in it and cherished memories contained in these walls. Cassidy and Caroline loved it here. She loved it here.

Too much to let it go and put it on the market. Beachcombing with the twins, bonfires and marshmallows and bbqs on Memorial Day, 4th of July and Labour Day or board games on rainy afternoons and makeshift camping in the living room with candles during squalls. The girls and Patricia didn't like thunderstorms nor did Miranda particularly adore them usually wound up sheltered in all quadrants of her California king bed. Miranda's room overlooked the ocean, all whites and sea foam jade.

Stephen's trysts didn't sully it. Thinking of Caitlin and Stephen in _their bed_ had made Miranda have the bedroom redecorated completely five months ago.

Crystal blue eyes met expectant brown. Andy had her bag next to her.

''Andrea you may pick any guest room as long as it's away from me.'' Given back her ipod with battery in need of recharge. Dismissed.

Andy puttered, couldn't help it, in a _new_ place. Curious. Miranda's second home was like a chic treasure trove of nooks and crannies, built in white shelves, a pond yacht on a mantelpiece, full blue hydrangeas on either sofas side tables, intimate photos of the twins. A bowl of seashells perhaps collected by Cassidy and Caroline?

Andy liked it here immensely, it wasn't what she expected. It wasn't stately or stuffy but very light and bright and exuded warmth. Hell the guest bathroom had Molten Brown and Clarins toiletries and a Jacuzzi bathtub she'd live in. She knew where she was going to be for two glorious days. Stunned was that Van Gogh's painting called 'Irises' hanging. Andy also noticed 'Vase with Fifteen Sunflowers.' Miranda always demanded the best, so why not have a private collection of post impressionism in an oceanfront home.

Then she found the _kitchen_, white and stainless steel with soapstone counters, jaw dropping gourmet, pantry stocked from a French grocery store and Dean & Deluca. Miranda who pays $95 for imported olive oil.

Andy knew she really shouldn't be nosing around but still did so. Glancing at a Mugnaini Wood-Fired Pizza Oven because god forbid a Domino's Pizza Box would really clash. Wolf's stainless warming drawers and Sub-Zero Wolf freezer drawers under countertops.

Glancing at the entrance Miranda was somewhere ensconced in her self-imposed leave me alone solitude. Opening the huge Sub-Zero Wolf fridge, just a peek, one learned a lot from the contents inside of someone's fridge, kinda like a look in their psyche. Their inner self. What were you hiding Miranda? Häagen Dazs, Ben & Jerry's? Fluff?

Inside Miranda's fridge, all very organic, blueberries, apricots, brie, Anjou pears, limes and lemons, peaches, shitake mushrooms, turkey meatballs, Moroccan and Kalamata black olives, vanilla bean whipping cream yummy Andy thought, already made container of coq au vin, truffle mac & cheese stopping on one list taped to the inside of the fridge Andy read a label on one juice container _'prune'_, dreaded labels, drove Andy crazy, exasperated even colour coded.

Poor deprived twins dining every night as if at The Culinary Institute or Le Cordon Bleu never allowed Rice Krispy's or Hershey's to pass their lips no just Larousse Gastronomique and Kobe dishes and Soufflé's. Poor Patricia consuming Holistic dog food. Wait a minute prune juice, sitting on the shelf a box of bran flakes, fibre, was that Miranda's problem, irritable bowel syndrome or constipation would explain a lot the unpleasantness disposition. Next snoop would be the bathroom medicine cabinets.

''_What are you doing?'' _

Crap. Andy was caught red handed. ''No…Nothing Miranda, glass of prune juice?'' Offered innocently. Miranda strode over to beside Andrea. Looked at as if she was a disturbed or socially impaired individual by Miranda.

Grabbed the juice from Andy, geez if she really wants to drink it, the prune beverage, was all hers. Watching Miranda rifle through the fridge, her haughty features looking more and more annoyed. Perturbed and vexed ripping off the taped list.

This was when Stephen lived here, not now. Stephen was lactose intolerant, living with his diet drove Miranda up the wall. Probiotics, never again.

''Emily's fired.''

Andy blinked astonished, Emily didn't deserve that. Miranda was half dialling Emily Charlton's number.

A stronger hand clasped hers, stopped. ''Miranda Stop. Just stop. Whatever Emily did or didn't do it's not important.'' Warm brown eyes with strands of dark golden honey were wide staring at Miranda's outburst. Still covering Miranda's hand. Could feel Andy's pulse over hers. Pressed inner palm over hers. Clasped.

Very close to one another. Andy calmly spoke to her former Boss. ''Just let it go. Emily messed up. It's not the end of the world is it? Give her a break, probably slipped her mind. '' Easy going body language radiated off of Andy.

'' Who the hell do you think you our _Andréa_ Sachs! _Andréa _are you Emily's boss? No I am and I do not employ Emily to have things slip her mind. Release me.'' Miranda hand was let go.

'' I'll let Emily go on Monday she's useless and incompetent, barely can do anything I request right just like you '' Andy swallowed _'like me' _enough was enough, growling lowly. ''No. No you won't.''

''Excuse me.'' Blue eyes widening at _Andréa._

Andy was furious at Miranda for her lack of concern for anything, no anybody. Needed to hear this from her. '' For God sakes Miranda cut Emily some slack. _Please._''

''Don't tell me what to do Sachs. I will be firing Emily on Monday morning.''

'' Emily looks up to you, anyone's guess as to why. Because all I see in front of me is a Heinous Bitch in need of a B12 shot for emotions or a forever prescription of Midol for your permanent PMS condition. You can't just fire Emily like that. For nothing, she worships Runway. Adores working for you. Think of what that would do to her, it would devastate her. Just stop.'' Andy usually never lost it.

Andréa's words were making Miranda stand still and speechless. Finally had the Dragon Lady's complete attention.

'' Do you have any ounce or increment of feelings for people, do you Miranda? Of course not. Your Runway's Living Heart Donor. Exist but feeling _nothing_.'' It's clear you live in a self-centred bubble called you and not the real world. All this sucking up to you by everyone is bull and getting really old. Guess what the world doesn't orbit around you Miranda Priestly.''

'' Do you have any idea of repercussions of your thoughtless actions? Do you? Take me, you got me fired at that Gala Benefit and guess what I was evicted that night. Homeless. Just think. Maybe feel. People aren't disposable or are they to the Ice Queen? Does anything or anybody matter to you?''

Andy's eyes questioned Miranda who was quietly digesting Andy's tirade.

''Guess not, but if you even have a shred of heart I am sure you were born without. Just don't fire Emily.''

Told she was missing the full spectrum of human emotion by _Andréa_ made Miranda's eyes shimmer, felt wetter. Had to get away from her former assistant right now. Damn her voice shaking as she spoke to her houseguest.

'' One person who definitely doesn't matter to me. You. Go to hell Sachs and don't be here in the morning.'' Left Andy in the kitchen.


	13. Chapter 13

_Told Andrea Sachs To Leave._

What had made her say that? What was it about Andrea that brought out this ugly side? Didn't know what it is but Andrea Sachs brought out the very worst in Miranda. Why whenever she was near Andréa, she ended up sounding like a vain preening twit or a vicious horrible person or a heinous bitch. Like she was in school and had a crush this was the way a juvenile school boy would behave to the girl of his dreams, march right up and pull her pigtails and make her cry.

Had she made Andy upset yes countless times and why did she care if she did. Andy hated her so she should hate her, loathe her, despise her, she did. Andrea had said so many cruel, spiteful vicious comments tonight. Then again so had she, all the time to her. Half of them unfounded, just lashed out deviously and pettily.

Always the worse conveyed, she could never say anything right in front of Andy. She brought out her worse. Oh, why did she feel so small when those brown eyes looked deep into her own? Why did she feel so lacking when those eyes looked at her expecting her, too what? She still didn't know what Andy wanted out of her. From her. What did Andy's eyes expect her to do? Change, be a better person, no Andy's eyes said everything she could never seem to say. Said every feeling she could only dream of saying.

Miranda paced her bedroom, the calming coolness of pale jade could not soothe her. In fact ever since the return of Andy Sachs she hadn't been able to think straight.

Her eyes closed, than opened looking at herself in the mirror, smudged eyes from crying, tired from trying to fight this, she couldn't take anymore. She had to do something. She whirled on her bare feet, her floral peignoir rippling as she rushed on silent feet to Andy's room.

Her heart pounded as she lifted her hand to pound on the closed door, now what, and what was she supposed to do, beg for forgiveness, tell her she was sorry Miranda wasn't good at saying sorry and say she'd never be a bitch again. Say the dragon lady was dead. Conquered. It would be a lie, in the morning she was who she always was, tough and unflinching it had gotten her this far. She dropped her hand, her fingers touching the door. Her head rested against Andy's door, her breath falling on the wood. What was she going to say '' Andréa Sachs you do matter. To me.'' Lost her nerve.

Walking away from Andrea's door. Opening a door out onto the deck, sitting down on a hammock in the moonlight.

Andy had went jogging needing to fuel this wired feeling from losing her temper with Miranda Priestly. Who inevitably made her do that like nobody else could. The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions didn't cover Miranda Priestly the Dragon Lady. Should have remained calm towards Miranda but that word _calm_ seemed to get lost on Andy whenever Miranda was around her.

Couldn't let it go when Miranda threatened to fire Emily just saw red. Pressed her buttons like no one else did, the friction of sandy dunes under her running shoes gave a perfect workout. Rage and a fully charged ipod on her toned bicep did the rest. Been running in moonlight for an hour this was better than Manhattan sidewalk obstacles. Sweating, wiping her face with her worn t-shirt, maybe before calling a cab she'd sit on Miranda's perfect white sofas. The more perspiration the better maybe find a garlic clove and eat it.

Andy ran musing, the both were so at each other, never got along, always fighting and arguing, vicious bickering on Miranda's end almost like foreplay or some strange mating dance of do they, don't they. From that kiss there was a mutual attraction but Miranda always put up an icy barrier that Andy would need an ice saw to crack. The tension was smothering her.

Her teeth gritting, Miranda Priestly could be one of the most infuriating, frustrating women she'd ever met. She could spend a lifetime trying to figure Miranda out.

So much for a nice relaxing beach getaway. The weekend hadn't even begun, still late Friday night.

Andy sprinted turning back to the Beach House, going over things to do. Shower. Pack. Call Cab. Get the hell away from Southampton and Miranda.

Stepping onto the deck saw puffy eyes and a Kleenex box. Not now like Parisian Hotel Suite.

''Just. Go. Away.'' Scrunching a Kleenex.

Sniffling and had been crying a lot.

Andy murmured out. ''You've been crying.'' Said it in startled wonder and disbelief. Miranda Priestly was actually upset with her earlier words. By her tear stained face very upset by Andy's words. Shocked they had affected her The Dragon Lady. Moving closer to Miranda, approach with caution Sachs or fire extinguisher. Especially during a Miranda tsunami cry fest.

''Didn't you hear me. _Leave._'' Not budging. Andy sat down beside Miranda on hammock who wrinkled her nose at jogging shorts and a threadbare t-shirt. Andy resisted the urge to run a fingertip along a tear like a rain drop on Miranda's face.

''Get away from me. My life is in ruins… ever since you came into it…obvious you sadistically enjoy unravelling it. When you leave, I'm resigning as Editor. 'May' will be my last issue. What you're not thrilled Andrea, you won. Irv won.'' Andy didn't flinch at the hard harsh tone.

''Miranda you can't do that.''

Andy Sachs was like a wrecking ball of disarray, disorder and devastation into Miranda Priestly well-ordered life at Runway.

Like a dam breaking no bursting inside Miranda. ''I know a fitting editor letter perhaps you can write it Andrea for my last final edition of Runway. Come now you hardly lack in accurate description of me. Quite a brutally honest sesquipedalian. Miranda Priestly Editor-in-Chief liked and admired by no one, maliciously wounds everyone around her because lacking a heart. Leaves Elias-Clarke Holdings with staff elated and joyous. Page Six would sell out.'' Choked out more tears. ''A fitting grand exit, send-off don't you think?'' Miranda's eyes and her stature looked to Andy so sorrowful and despondent.

Andy gulped. Miranda needed to take it easy, maybe be given that stuff to calm down high strung thoroughbred horses. Tranquilizers.

Andy knew Emily Charlton would faint if she saw this, throwing hesitation to wind, took a chance thankfully would not be in need of testicular retrieval by daring to do this, put her arms around Miranda without warning. Pulled to.

'' You'll be fine. Everything will be fine.'' Gathered to. Needed to be held.

Felt Miranda stiffen against her almost nuzzled stilling in this embrace, vivid glistening blue eyes illuminated in the darkness. ''Shh, it'll be okay.'' Bursting into more tears. Andy's Go Ruck t-shirt officially became Miranda Priestly's tear wiping garment with face buried into shoulder.

''Since I constantly endeavour to ruin your life maybe I can just listen. So talk to me.'' Gentle brown eyes prompted her. Miranda opened her mouth, she never had anyone to just talk to. Stephen didn't listen to one word she said or the twin's father but Andrea wanted to listen.

'' Don't have to act so strong Miranda, go ahead and take off your icy face. Just once.''

Feeling contrition over all the things she'd said to Andrea and done to Andrea. Ball of shame like a lump stuck in her throat. Told after having her fired that night she'd been evicted that same evening and made homeless. Concerned for her. Where had she gone? Why did Andrea turn to Irv Ravitz? Miranda lips pursed, Irv was unmitigated slime, tarnished people. Shouldn't be anywhere near unblemished Andrea. Couldn't she have gone to her parents for help?

Did Andrea have to always be so earnest? Kind to just about everybody. Even to you the impervious Ice Queen.

Andy and Miranda lolling in a hammock together with waves crashing on the beach.

Andy just listened intently and patiently like a friend.

'' I don't even know how to begin this.'' Miranda was good with talking about culture and fashion not about problems. Her problems.

Andy rolled her eyes. '' You're terrible at this, tell me what's bothering you.''

''Caitlin came here.''

Andy frowned in darkness surrounding them, since Andy hadn't minored in 'mind reading' at Brown just comparative literature, guessing scenarios of Caitlin being that lousy houseguest who steals Egyptian cotton towels or a houseguest who overstays her welcome. Probably a house sitter who's a squatter or kills all your plants and perennials and racks up charges on movies on demand.

An overwhelming curiosity to not go on continuing to wonder if Caitlin was a nudist houseguest.

''Caitlin is?'' Running small circles on Miranda's satin shoulder.

''Caitlin is Stephen's Caitlin.''

Andy realised who Caitlin was. The other woman, the affair, Runway had been whispering it in hushed tones in the hallowed halls for a month before Paris. Never liked Stephen. Period. Something about him that rubbed Andy the wrong way. A feeling deep inside something about Stephen Andy detested. An instinct she'd met elitist jerk offs like him at college.

Miranda twisted her ring, glared down at the offending ring, frustrated, it hadn't budged ever since Stephen had slipped it on her finger it had been stuck. Wouldn't come off. She'd tried butter, olive oil, soap, moisturisers, every remedy she could find on the internet but it still was there to remind her of everything. Every failure. If only she could wrench it off and chuck it away or through Stephen's brownstone mail slot or throw it at his lousy cheating head. Hated it, the symbol of their marriage.

''His ring won't come off.'' Stephen always caused discomfort to Miranda even with a wedding band that wouldn't come off.

Andy glanced at it. Tiffany or Cartier ostentatious. ''We'll get his ring off.'' Determined.

Timidly asked. '' Andrea what are you going to do?''

''Relax I'm not going to cut your finger off.'' Made a disconcerted noise, protesting tried soap and Palmolive, Vaseline and everything else. Andy eyes sparkled mischievously may have tried soap but not this. "Let's try my solution." Andrea's fingers encircled her wrist. Unsure as to what Andrea exactly had in mind.

''Come on trust me.''

Not taking no from Miranda, the ring was going to come off. Tonight. With this. Sure of it.

''If it hurts.'' Andy hushed Miranda. ''It won't.''

''You're not communicating or telling me what you're going to do to me.'' Miranda snappily accused, hesitant.

Warning tone of _Andréa._ Sapphire eyes widened.

Bending, slipping Miranda's finger into her mouth. At least she was quiet now. Miranda's mouth dried, she could feel a tongue, teeth and lips raking her skin, the delicate flesh between her fingers, and then with a tug, it slid, she slipped it off. The ring gone. Miranda felt a pang of loss to the connection of Andrea's mouth. Her finger now bare.

Holding it, the ring in her mouth. Andy wiped it off, handed. ''Off.'' Andy's mouth came in use.

Took it, husked out shakily. 'Thank you.''

''No problem, your welcome so what are you going to do with it?''

Jumped up from the swaying hammock, moving away from Andrea. Keeping a sensible distance. No her knees did not just weaken. Breathless again like when they'd kissed last time. Blushing against ivory skin. What was it with Sachs and her lips? Seemed to end up on her. Breeze lifting her snowy hair stepping barefoot onto the sand.

''I have an idea.''

Thrown in the sea. It was liberating doing that and it had been in Stephen's family for generations. It was ugly garish and Stephen's mother had insisted it be worn.

Chased after in the surf by Andrea, rolling tide of waves crashing down getting them both wet and sandy.

''I want you to stay Andréa.''


	14. Chapter 14

Andy didn't know why but ever since last night's moment together, they were awkward like they had crossed a line. Like a morning after but nothing happened between them. Last night they'd cavorted in the sand under moonlight nothing to strange except it was with Miranda Priestly.

Splashing each other in the waves playfully had been fun.

Oh and throwing a Cartier wedding ring worth thousands into the Atlantic. Stephen Tomlinson's family heirloom. Andy's opinion Stephen could go take a hike. If Stephen wanted it back he could go salvage diving or buy a metal detector. With any luck that ring would be thousands of miles away on the currents.

Making breakfast for Miranda earlier was perfectly normal nice thing to do, it wasn't like Andy brought it to her in bed on a tray, with roses and heart shaped toast. Bright side she hadn't destroyed or burnt down Miranda's kitchen. Nate had been once so wrong she could indeed boil water and fix breakfast without anyone calling the fire department. Nate just never liked her playing with his fancy kitchen gadgets and culinary toys she'd bought him with her pay check.

Then their hands kept brushing subconsciously. To make matters worse this Saturday a squall developed, inaccurate Weather Channel. Andy and Miranda were stuck indoors. Cooped up with each other. Normally Andy would have initiated a Bed Day but the word bed and near Miranda made Andy very aware of wanting to be very dressed around her.

Thank heavens Andy's past addiction recovering from was not sex addiction. Because if Miranda kept up with biting her lower lip and don't get Andy started on how she'd eaten the omelette Andy made. It was like being trapped in a banned sexy subtitled French film because Miranda spoke breathless french when she liked something which Andy never knew. If this kept up Andy was going to proceed to drown herself in a cold shower.

Should have made Miranda burnt waffles not gush seductively over fluffy egg dish. Got the gist despite the language barrier '' _Andréa céleste_ sur les lèvres.'' Heaven on her lips. Andy liked her own translation _she_ was heaven on Miranda's lips.

From now on the vanilla bean whipping cream was confiscated for Andy's very wellbeing.

If electricity went out and candles were lit and a looping playlist, Miranda Priestly would be a very ravished woman by Sunday. Lock that down Sachs, she cried on you. Nothing else, but when Miranda's lips pressed almost to her neck that had been enough to give Andy the shivers.

Staring at Miranda's mouth, her lips.

Mentally berating herself you are not going to get me some of that Sachs. Andy decided to delete all r&b off her playlist to be safe. Last time Andy had kissed Miranda had ended terribly, so absolutely no locking lips nada Sachs, not again. Andy decided early in bed restless from being close to Miranda that crazy as it seemed she would be for Miranda an unlikely ally, the most unlikely to Runway's Ice Queen. Just friends. Yup.

Andy was once known amongst her former lost friends as the best person to befriend and damn it she'd be the best pal MP could have. Minus the sexual tension and squashing down the sultry chemistry between them and undercurrent of erotic electricity. Clothes would stay on. Nope from now on Andy Sachs you are immune to Miranda Priestly. Have to be. Only way to self-preservation.

Andy would just stoically ignore the palpable sizzle of sensual possibility every time their hands accidently brushed or touched. Groaning inside, Miranda had such nice hands in Andy's opinion. Telling herself, No matter how much you want to be more than a friend. Quash that down. Miranda needed a friend not a lover.

Leaning against the counter Andy was trying to be riveted no downright engrossed over an article she was skimming not really reading on celibacy making a comeback. Wasn't that a great idea? Enforced Abstinence. Taking sex out of the equation. Brilliant. Who needs sex? Anyway. Complicates everything.

Offered another cup of coffee or tea again by Miranda who realised she knew next to nothing about Andrea Sachs whereas she knew just about everything like a dossier about her.

''I'd love a first cup of green tea please.'' Miranda had absently forgotten to pour Andrea a first cup because of observing Andy every few minutes.

Didn't Miranda know she could serve her Sanka or Tang and she'd drink it?

Was Miranda just as aware around Andy as well? Apparently by the blush tinging her ivory face she was aware when their fingers grazed. Handed a mug. Andy took it setting it down, flexing her hand as if electrified.

Miranda was hyper aware of Andrea. Tip toeing around each other all morning, last night she must have resembled an old fool to her. A pathetic old fool.

Miranda cheeks flushed she'd lost all of her icy deportment and steely comportment that carved and moulded the Dragon Lady in front of Andrea. Didn't quite know how to be or what to be in front of Andrea in this moment, toiled this morning lying in bed still awake from when they'd walked back to Beach House in moonlight. Parted in the hallway. For a tiny sliver of a second Miranda considered being her usual indifferent self but when Andrea had greeted her with breakfast. Couldn't.

Andrea had watched her strangely as she'd ate what she'd made, it was delicious. Did she have something in her teeth? Stared at intensely. Maybe she thought Miranda was pathetic seeing her cry, clinging to her. Almost intimately. Telling her about Caitlin. Thankful she hadn't talked about Stephen. Andrea would lose all respect for her, hearing about that travesty of a marriage.

Wouldn't be able to look Andrea in the eye. If she'd shared anything about Stephen.

Was Andrea just feeling sorry for her? Pitying her? Better not be. Miranda didn't want Andrea to feel anything like sympathy for her. Or was it that she just felt compelled to comfort Miranda weeping. Like a common courtesy or a good deed similar to helping an old lady across the street. Like some sort of dutiful Samaritan or in Andrea's way a non-conformist Girl Scout being a friend to all, sprung with holding a sobbing person. Just a crying shoulder who wanted nothing to do with her.

She had meant it wanting Andrea to stay, when they'd been on the sand together. By the way Andrea kept looking at her so uncomfortably it was clear she wanted to be anywhere else but here. The way she'd flexed her hand when their fingers brushed handing a mug. Avoiding her eyes. Surely she wasn't that much of a pariah to Andrea. Was she? Pulling her cashmere robe tighter watching Andrea willing her to speak, to leave, to run, anything. Any action.

'' I…I think I'll draft out that article on Bonsai's that you gave me. Yeah... best do that, Bonsais Rock.'' Andy chirpily informed Miranda practically fleeing. Backing out of the room, she couldn't keep her hands from moving nervously. That's right Sachs rush to write about pruning Japanese elms, snow rose or blue wisteria into artwork. _Now._ What the hell made you declare that? Groaning.

Now you have to leave her. Not like you can return to the kitchen and cross examine Miranda on her view of Green peace or does she worry about the hazards of global warming or does she recycle or will she be watching the French Open or Wimbledon on her cable package or isn't Boo the cutest dog ever or did she like Bronte or Emily Dickenson. Nervously be vocalising utterly useless facts and never getting to the point, asking Miranda what she wanted most of all to ask.

Because Miranda rendered you into a sputtering dork Sachs. Only been practising internal dialogue all morning how to go about the verbal offering of fantastic friendship and benefits awaiting with one Andy Sachs.

Couldn't speak to Miranda except about Bonsais!

Andy had a new found sympathy for stuttering or tongue tied agony around crushes presbuscent boys they suffered. Like her. Slumped in search of a very hard wall to hit her head repeatedly on.

Left alone in the kitchen, Miranda watched it was raining outside wonderful, well if Andrea Sachs felt so uneasy near The Dragon Lady, she could stay away from her than. _Fine._ Keep her distance. This was exactly why Miranda Priestly didn't let down her walls.

No Wi-Fi snapping shut Runway's ipad air, Andy put it down she'd been staring at the same blank page for a few hours, chastising herself over 'Bonsais Rock!' could she be any stranger to Miranda.

Now wonder Nate had been her _first _to put herself out there with. Romantic gestures from Nate was making Andy a grilled Jarlsberg cheese sandwich. Around him she'd been teased for being well herself, Nate frequently called her his klutzy Andy minus knee pads and safety helmet which actually was a put down whereas last night around Miranda made Andy find it hard to breathe and gave Andy butterflies. Nate never did if she was honest, he was comfy like an over washed fleece sweatshirt. He was safe, predictable. Being with Nate was like kissing a Ewok. Never felt like he fit whereas Andy's forced kiss with Miranda more than fit.

The squalling rainstorm had cleared, awesome she'd be able to do it. Rummaging through her bag. Just needed a few things, essentials and paramount to Andy one Miranda Priestly.

Grabbing her bag, went in search of a thermos, and a blanket.

Miranda hadn't been able to get it out of her head of how Andrea Sachs had been so full of concern last night for her and yet this morning couldn't get away from her faster. Asking her to stay had been one of the first times Miranda was impulsive. Meant it with her whole heart to please stay.

Obvious Andrea realised she was just an illusion. The war paint of Miranda Priestly removed. Few liked it once the priceless couture, maquillage and coiffure came off. The illusion gone. Well except two precious darlings, the twins. They saw her as just Mom.

Mom who decorated cookies with them at the kitchen table and endured Patricia's drooling. They loved her as just her, she could be in a baggy old sweater and hadn't combed her hair for a week or if she came in dripping with Bvlgari jewellery and wearing Givenchy they still would think the same thing, _just Mom _and they loved her.

Her phone rang.

On the other end of the line, Miranda calmly soothed a distraught Cassidy who'd phoned. ''I know darling you don't like Daddy's competitive edge or being there at his place. No Cassy I couldn't be prouder. Put your father on.'' Miranda fumed about James's parenting one of many reasons she only agreed to limited custody with their twins. Twice a month they went to stay with their Father, both always called frequently homesick a bit more mom sick, either James served them a yucky new age vegan diet from one of his health nut girlfriend's or completely by accident they or Patricia broke something. Or earlier moments proving James was the most immature father to ever exist of phone calls like can I give the girls Cap'n Crunch for dinner or a halved Power Bar for breakfast.

One time in the middle of a Couture preview, James and his nitwit gym bunny had lost Caroline in a Westchester grocery store somewhere between aisle 1 and 15. Who does that? Not a responsible parent. Cassidy had blabbed why and how James lost track of his precious offspring Caroline, too busy talking on his iPhone and groping Tiffany.

Miranda's personal favourite of why to never let the twins out of her sight forgetting to pick up her daughters at a birthday party sending a town car service three hours late. Patricia minded the twins better and she was a canine. It was a miracle James incompetence kept Cass and Car out of the emergency room.

James lived like he belonged in a Swedish furniture ad, modern cold. He'd wanted children just not the messiness it brought. James from the moment they exchanged vows, had been plagued with perpetual whiny little boy syndrome. Miranda was the one who attended everything except one recital, put calamine on them when they had chicken pox, and made Halloween costumes, comforted from bad dreams, always there. Loved being a mother.

James was there when he could fit Caroline and Cassidy in. Excuses of I'm playing squash or I'm at the Country Club. Even had to be reminded what day their birthday was? Last birthday he was so up on what they liked despite the list of suggestions sent by Miranda, countlessly told Car and Cass liked horses bought them an Xbox with the new Grand Theft Auto wonderful, a game that was ''a virtual training manual for gangsters'' for ten year old girls.

One Thanksgiving, driving the girls up to 'his' place herself in silver Porsche, James had forgotten the holiday had simply slipped his mind, insisting wasn't it next week.

Miranda had curtly told James perhaps he invest in a calendar since he was so occupied in his love shack with a personal trainer called Lori.

Covered but the girl's knew, they went back to the city and had Thanksgiving at The Plaza.

Sent by courier to James a date planner with holidays highlighted and circled and a year's prescription for Viagra with a medical journal clipping with its adverse side effects particularly ischemic priapism if one overindulged in that little blue pill of wonder. Miranda had no doubt James would be overindulging in that assistance.

Told icily by phone to never have a floozy like that near the girls. Did not want her daughters thinking Hooters was an acceptable job because half of daddy's bimbo's were at one time employed there.

The only good thing that came out of it was Cassidy and Caroline. Overjoyed the day of the ultrasound, learning they were having twins, James had been put out it was girls.

It was evening, had she been on the phone that long with her babies. Caroline had been negotiating with her, _one_ harmless prank on ditzy airhead Kimberly. Take away their allowance even Wii, urged to, happily give it up for _one_ _prank._ Tossup between adding baby powder to Kimberly's hair conditioner, put fake bugs in her muesli because she makes us eat that sandpaper potpourri or stick googly eyes on all food in fridge and everywhere else since Kimi always watched what they were eating and doing. Griping if Kimberly wants to eat pumpkin seeds, granola and nori so be it but don't inflict it on us. Gulag fridge Warden. Caroline had _her _wicked sense of humour.

'' Last choice Mom, Jell-O drinks, it will take her hours to figure that the jokes on her.'' Car solemnly promised it would affect Dad just as much as Kimi. Almost gave in.

Miranda's mom voice reminded. ''Like last time switching your father's The Godfather DVD collection with Disney on his Guy's night... Than Cassidy got on upset. You completely insensitive ass James ridiculing their daughter. Cassy was like Miranda quieter more guarded easier to upset.

Stephen had already done enough damage making Cassy nervous when she'd squirted grape juice on his white tuxedo shirt, she had ended up a red road map of tears. Stephen proceeded to have a hissy fit and showed a side Miranda did not like. Stephen could lose it at her but not ever at her daughters.

Brought back to the present as James's voice interrupted her memory.

Got on the line. Miranda waspishly spoke to her first ex-husband as clipped and frosty as the infamous cerulean time but meaner.

''James what do you mean in telling Cass third place isn't good enough. _No_ Kimberly is not allowed to constructive criticise or in any way parent _my_ daughters. I bore them not some silicone augmented Valley girl with a 1.2 gpa. '' Pinching her nose bridge, cradling the phone on her ear, pacing. ''Do not change the subject, oh so _you _don't care about our daughters one bit, and that's why you _won't _be having them on your times this year , so it _won't_ interfere with Kimberly's tantric classes, heavens forbid her wet t-shirt contest in Cancun be postponed. This conversation is over.'' She hung up on James.

A soft knock disturbed Miranda's inner rant about her first ex-husband's idiocy, how had she ever been married to James. What twisted joke of fate had brought them together? Clear as day twice she'd married beneath herself.

Opening the door to _Andréa._

Andy smiled warmly. ''Good Evening.'' Miranda was not in a civil mood, frowning at Andrea's sudden friendliness. Now. Made it perfectly clear by flinching hand and strained looks, Miranda was the last person Andrea wanted to be around. Was a fool in moonlight asking Andrea to stay? Letting Andrea in an even bigger fool. Actually for more than a moment really enjoyed splashing Andrea in the rolling waves and being chased after her.

''I was wondering if you'd like to do something with me?''

Miranda quirked a brow in disbelief. '' No.''

Andy face fell for fraction, grabbing Miranda's hand.

Miranda froze very still, that frisson feeling happened again, brushing Andrea's eager hand away.

Miranda was going to reweave The Dragon Lady, The Ice Queen back, make Andrea fear her again and realise that last night had been a lapse of composure. One time occurrence.

Convey, that Andrea better never mention her tears to anybody at Runway.

''Please join me tonight.'' Brown eyes sparkled sincerely.

'' I've already had dinner._ Andréa._ '' That was a lie. Miranda hadn't. Standing in her bedroom doorway.

Andy smiled enigmatically. '' Who said anything about dinner. Miranda.''


	15. Chapter 15

Miranda Priestly still didn't know why she agreed to be led by Andrea outside along the beaches sandy dunes, yet here she was. Sand beneath her bare feet.

Blaming captivating brown eyes and Andrea's bounding enthusiasm she gave her all in everything even in forcing Miranda to partake in the unknown. Andrea's uncharted unknown.

''Come on you'll like it.'' Told over her shoulder exuberantly. At least Andy hoped Miranda would.

Miranda was brought forward, her vivid blue eyes relentlessly probing and piercing Andy's with silent questions.

''Just look.''

Miranda peered. Gasping. Andy's mouth close to her earlobe. ''That's the Pleiades and if I just adjust this a bit…Andy turned the focus of her telescope lens to magnify more. ''There.'' Smiling at Miranda's wonder. ''Perfect electric blue of the Seven Sisters. Do you like it? '' Clicking it to photograph it.

Andy mumbled quietly. ''Matches your eyes.''

A multitude of azure stars, Miranda squinted at the largest star, never seen anything more breathless, wondrous, told by Andrea it's a cluster that contains hundreds of stars.

'' Its breath taking … I love it. So magnificent and flawless _Andréa _the intensity of colours our like a Van Cleef & Arpels sapphire bracelet catching reflections. Vivid lapis sparkling.'' She lifted her head from the telescope eyes bright she wanted to thank Andy for showing her, sharing the night skies.

Andy stifled a small chuckle. ''O-kkay. But not cerulean Miranda.'' Teased Miranda, Andy's brows raised the same way Miranda's speech was over her lumpy blue sweater. Mimicking the tone.

Stiffly looked at. '' I think I'll be going inside.'' Miranda turned on her heel. She remembered that day, such intensity, the dislike the overreaction to that pathetic knitted garment and she did not and would not be made fun of.

Andy grabbed Miranda's hand, willing her to stay. 'Wait, please Miranda, truce, here I'll show you more stars promise.'' Andy implored shouldn't have ridiculed her former boss. Made fun of her but too tempting not to say 'cerulean'.

''Fine.''

Miranda guided herself back to beside Andrea, shown more stars in silence. Her mop of brown curls brushing her cheek. She closed her eyes, she would fight this attraction.

''Look Miranda, here's the Swan Nebula.'' Seeing through Andrea's telescope with an attached camera at the Sagittarius constellation.

'' This is Tycho broke the moon.''

Offered a thermos, it was cooler tonight after the storm. Miranda's haughty brows rose, cocoa with large and tiny marshmallows'. ''Andrea are you _five_.'' Tasting it, it was actually delicious.

Despite declaring it was for five year olds, Miranda drank it. Sipping gracefully.

Andy protested. ''Hey. Save some for _me_.''

''_It is my gourmet hot chocolate.''_ Toasting the cup to Andrea. Swallowing another sip in challenge. Her blue eyes dancing with mirth as she laughed at the wounded puppy dog look Andy gave.

Andy grinned was that genuine laughter from _Miranda Priestly_ never knew she had so many teeth.

Setting down the thermos cup onto grainy sand. Sitting down on a spread out blanket.

''We're made of collapsed stars you and me.''

_Stargazing Miranda._ Never done this before with anyone.

Andrea was sometimes not what she expected, completely uncorrupted, reminded of when they first met. Hadn't any idea who she was. Miranda had been intrigued almost bemused at Andrea's innocent ignorance. Not a clue of how powerful Miranda Priestly was. No cowering, truckling, fawning just took on The Dragon Lady with no fear of grave repercussion. Endearing_._

Behind that desk Miranda had _let_ brown eyes captivate, charm and ensnare her. Than Andrea did something else Miranda didn't allow to develop, become relied upon, hadn't she rewarded Andrea with Paris only to be repaid by being left by Andréa in her favourite city.

Irony when she'd dialled the cell that ended up in fountain, Miranda was planning to calmly explain herself to Andrea by telling her to give her one hour. Just one hour to attend the preview than journey back to her Hotel suite try to mend things with Nigel and Miranda remembered how distressed and doubtful she'd been about ever salvaging even a tiny shred of Andrea Sachs respect back, icily recalling how Andréa looked at her with pure antipathy. Got out of the car. Walked away. Willed _Andréa _silently to look back, look back just once, to come back. Didn't.

Even on the plane back Miranda hadn't been able to get Andrea's damn eyes out of her mind. Contemplating on the 8 hour flight sitting in first class, there'd been a slew of emotions coursing through The Dragon Lady there'd been wounded pride and outrage at Sachs audacity, icy fury and indifference of a silly little nobody walking away from Runway's Editor, should blackball her in publishing yes when they land would make it her vengeful crusade to make Andrea Sachs life hell. The assigned steward and stewardess took the full brunt of La Priestly. Waved away airborne waiting staff. Nigel presumed the Ice Queen was upset over Stephen faxed divorce papers'.

Using her iPad Miranda touch typed a scathing report to HR.

A. Sachs wilful destroyer of company property on foreign soil. 1 smartphone. Next employer take note be wary and consider to watch out for vandalism by Sachs. Note have Emily get locksmith to change locks since that wretched person had a copy of her townhouse key.

Hadn't that shown Andréa she was invaluable?

Miranda's rancour building inside her towards her Ex Assistant.

Lip curled, resting her manicured finger on her lip. Slipping on her eyeglasses.

Filled up word document with everything wrong with Andréa, in Miranda's eyes Andrea Sachs had plenty things wrong with her, cruel words describing how lack witted Sachs was, slighted Miranda was at her most vicious. Saved draft, clicking another icon by error.

Miranda faltered.

A list in her folder. Attached. Saved to share. Foolish mistake Andréa.

_The Miranda List_

_Author A. Sachs _

_Time 10:00 pm waiting for The Book no doubt. _

Andréa's inner musings and observations. How dare she make a list on her?

Steadying herself to what Andréa wrote about her. Miranda had been described in negative ways countless times before but something deep in her didn't know if she wanted to read Andréa's words. Yet Miranda wanted the truth, how did her ex Assistant view her, measure and weigh her. Was she found wanting. Lacking. Judging her, Miranda Priestly daring to. Prickling. How dare you _Andréa Sachs__._

Opened The _Miranda List._

_Confounds me_

_Uses words I have to Google_

_Never drinks half of Starbuck's orders I fetch _

_Honey in tea! Calabrian Bergamot Honey in Black Tea to be exact_

_Acerbic and Unflinching _

_Blue eyes that I have yet to find what colour they truly resemble, Futile but Search continues… _

_Shudder CERULEAN moment (sorry for being fashionably colour blind) _

_Writes with fountain tip pen_

_Circles errors red on printed Memo you've worked an hour on_

_Insists intelligent life is in fashion industry, umm one word. Emily _

_Never calls me Andy _

_Will Not. Just say Andy. Once, just once. Arghhh! Knows Miranda can pronounce difficult words like Elie Saab, Zuhair Murad, Azzedine Alaia and Giambattista Valli but not Andy how hard can it be. Compared to those?!_

_Delightful in the morning with Coat toss_

_Vicious_

_Picky_

_Self-Centred_

_Overindulged_

Trembling from indignation. Her crystal blue eyes blurred. Hot tears blurred the next few words, falling on the keyboard.

_Unfathomable_

_Elegant & Refined _

_Recherché in every way defined_

_Terrifies with pursed lips._

_Capricious_

_Enthralling_

Miranda sniffed Andrea Sachs was wrong she was none of those things, she was not difficult or mercurial unfair. Yet why would Sachs want to find a colour that matches her eyes.

Deleted the draft to HR. Never wanted anyone remotely like _Andréa _near her again.

Chilly tonight in the dunes of Southampton.

Felt Miranda shiver, Andy cupped slender fingers and began to rub her hands into Miranda's.

''You have horripilation.''

Miranda glared affronted by Sachs. '' I beg your pardon.'' Pulling her hands away. Why was Sachs always so rude and nettling? Always to her. Provoked Miranda in ways no one else did.

''Goosebumps Miranda.''

Offered her jacket around her. Flushed. ''Thank you.''

Andy smiled at Miranda '' Your most welcome.''

Andy's jacket smelt like her, Miranda eyes sparkled at Andrea. '' But you'll be cold.''

Andy grinned ''Nah I have Size Six body fat and I'm part Ohio Black bear.''

Miranda face gave a small smile, Andréa despite being exasperating could be quite charming when she tried to be. No one would ever believe Miranda Priestly, feared Editor was sifting her toes in sand dunes looking at stars with Andy Sachs.

''_Andrea. What are we doing? '' The_ intensity of Miranda's eyes rivalled the Pleiades.

Andy looked from the moonless evening sky to really look at Miranda. '' Looking at stars. Miranda.'' Wrapped in Andy's now favourite jacket, pulling it more around herself. ''Thank you Andrea for giving me this.'' Meaning the stars.

Without thinking Miranda's hand rubbed Andrea's forearm. Her digits ran small sensual circles along Andy's arm. Slender fingers delicately tracing through a sleeve made Andy tense. Making it very hard for Andy to not lean in and kiss her under the light of a thousand stars. _Friends Sachs _a steady mantra resounding in her head remembering how Miranda freaked after you played tonsil hockey with her.

Andy swallowed, sounding a little gruffer than intended. ''Don't. Just Don't.''

Miranda face was crestfallen and confused. ''Don't what?'' Stopped caressing and stroking Andy's toned arm.

Getting upset with Andy. ''I am sorry that my touch is so distressing for you.'' Or is it being near me? _ Why can't you just tell me_ _what do_ _you want from me_ _Andréa Sachs._''

''Just tell me.''

Met with silence. One minute beside her comforted when crying next brusque but made breakfast but don't be anywhere near me and then now shown stars if Sachs was determined to confuse and baffle Miranda it was working like a charm.

Miranda hadn't wanted to ruin this perfect evening they'd been sharing but Andréa had. Why did Sachs have to be Sachs in this moment? Never could get along. Destined to annihilate one another. Couldn't just once put aside this thing that kept them at each other and apart.

''_You.''_ Quietly answered her. _''I want you. '' _

Blue eyes widened at the implication. Wanted her, like wanted her. In coitus sense. _Oh._

Explainable all the looks her way. Sexual frustration.

''You can't mean that Andréa, you want, desire a cultivated image…trust me you won't admire what's underneath… We… you're so very…I'm not what you'll expect… plus we hardly ever agree…we don't go together at all.'' Miranda was running out of excuses. ''Besides we…we can't be together.'' Putting distance between them.

''_Why not?''_ Andy smile went to her cheeks, shrugging at Miranda's tirade of multitude of excuses arising to why their chemistry wouldn't work. '' I…I hardly know you Andréa.'' Conviction in her voice. ''Could be a terrible person, might have deplorable habits I couldn't abide.''

''So learn me.'' Andy offered.

''Besides I am not that bad. I floss even, occasionally I do consume a cupcake or a cronut its time you know, I confess I own a NME t-shirt and I can cook as you know since you went into French ecstasy over.''

Earned a look from Miranda and a tone. ''I did not.''

''Miranda you did and all in all I am a pretty good catch, I like dogs, I can learn to brunch or whatever it is you do when you're not at Runway. Plus being with me I woo diligently and spectacularly, slowly if that's what you need to have from me.'' Holding her breath, once in her life Andy was scared to death of screwing up with Miranda. Taking a chance letting Miranda inside.

''Woo? Woo me?'' Miranda repeated. Teased, ''Do enlighten me _Andréa,_ tell me how would someone like you woo me if I actually gave in to this fatuity.'' Determined to show Andréa the impracticality of this dalliance Andréa lusted for. Stephen and James's courting had been by the book predictable red rose bouquets, shallow praise, reservations to places she could've cared less to dine at. Invested wealth in each date to show off. Their wedding unions a meeting of portfolios and assets between the sheets.

''I'd give you an evening like this one I suppose or take you out to dinner with me.'' Andy hoped against hope her words wouldn't be the wrong answer ''Having the advantage of knowing what you like, I'd take you somewhere new, be across from you at this perfectly chosen restaurant which would have to be intimate & classy, spend most of the evening at table for two getting to know the real Miranda Priestly, the one I've been once seen fleetingly, of course I wouldn't be eating, nope because I'd be too busy, shame because the food would be so incredible.''

Miranda's listened intently. ''Why?'' Part of her hoped Andrea wouldn't take her somewhere closed down by health department citation on their first date hypothetically.

'' I'd be admiring your incredible eyes, trying to decipher how many blues are in its facets, I'd bluntly tell you without thinking. '' I love your eyes.''

''I don't think an artist could give credit to them. Probably others have said this before to you.''

Miranda thought. _Never._

Read such sincerity in Andy's brown eyes.

''I wouldn't have brought you flowers. ''

''You wouldn't.'' Put out Andy wouldn't bother. This pretend date wasn't going as planned.

Andy read disappointment in the same blue eyes she'd been complimenting. ''Not giving you a measly dozen roses because that's tacky and not worth you, you'd instead tell me how you love…pink _shidarezakura_ cherry blossom trees but it only blooms in Tokyo. I'd enchant you later in the week on our second date, by planting a sapling after laboriously tracking one down for you. Downright charm you.''

Miranda smiled at Andy's boldness. ''Would it. Your positive there'd be another date after our delightful dinner that you didn't eat through.''

''Certain, I'd pay being that I asked you out. We'd walk to your townhouse because being chauffeured by Roy would be like having a mom driving you on your first date and Miranda Priestly never cabs it, we'd stroll to your door and I'd, I'd…well I'd…''

''Kiss me?'' Miranda questioned, asking Andy with her startling stormy eyes.

'Please I need to know what you'd do to me.''

Clearing her throat Andy's eyes searched Miranda's.

'I just kissed the side of your cheekbone, ever so gently than I kiss your eyelids which fluttered underneath my lips because you had them closed in expectation of a… our first kiss. Very, very slowly I just grazed your lips with mine. Then I breathe you in Miranda and I smelled you, really inhaled you because your scent is a mystery I have to decipher. If I'm lucky it lingers on me for a while as I've left you on the top step. Goodnight.''

''_Miranda?''_

Andy's own mouth was crashed into.

Hell with platonic or with Andy's thought of celibate life being for her. No more resisting. Miranda Priestly was kissing her.


	16. Chapter 16

Miranda kissed her. _Kissed her_. Plain old inconspicuous Andy Sachs by out of her league Miranda Priestly. More wonderful than expected in comparison; there was quenching Lipton peach ice tea, Starbucks mocha ice cream, Mitcham mint Andy liked, but now Andy loved her favourite flavour Miranda's kiss, her taste, her lips. Her breath.

Slamming a knee against a side table leg, uttering a curse that was censored with a mouth, Andy was manoeuvring in the dark, hadn't broken this kiss until the pained profanity, almost made out on the beach.

No, Miranda was better than sex on a beach.

Meant for silk no satin sheets or 1500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. Lost on Andy how they'd made it up to the beach house so hastily. Now if they could just make it to a bedroom without calamity. Into Hers or Miranda's bed.

_This was it._ At last. Thrilled she'd given up her momentarily vow of perpetual chastity because if she hadn't than she wouldn't be here, being kissed by Miranda Priestly like they were being deprived of oxygen.

We're going to have sex. Andy Sachs don't cheapen a moment of two bodies intimately entwining and joining for their first time. Andy promised herself she'd make love to Miranda with caring and be slow in which it would be surpassing atoms, colliding perfectly. Miranda would be moaning, no calling her name out and loving each other till morning, beats a jogging workout.

Knew kissing Miranda that night at the Gala Benefit would be the end of Andy's life as she knew it. It was.

Heart racing, not knowing what to expect because Miranda kissed her this time. Miranda _could _kiss. Boy could she kiss. She was a lovely kisser. Attentive. Sensual. Sexy. Full bodied weak in knees.

Andy felt Miranda could write a manual on her kissing technique it was first, erotically slow than notched to feverish sultry kindling than knee buckling. Must have perfected it in Paris. Maybe at a _grandes écoles _of smooching_._ Slid into the couch together.

Couch it would be.

Slick granules of sand dusted them, couldn't keep their hands off one another. Miranda saw Andy's eyes darkened like golden cognac with strands of lust and want of her. Andy's mouth bent tracing a birthmark on Miranda's exposed cowl neck shoulder blade and along her collarbone.

Slowly languishing up her throat, nuzzling Miranda's suprasternal notch gone all jelloid at Andréa's trailing mouth.

Began kissing a part of Miranda through her Brunello Cucinelli cashmere off the shoulder top, arching her back, Miranda's mouth parted moaning to the feeling of Andréa's tongue connecting with her nipple. Kissed through knit.

Used to caressing the finest fabrics but Miranda savoured the sensation of stroking Andy through a plain cotton shirt, ran her fingers through Andy's chestnut hair, dark with flecks of honey caramel tresses, inhaled it smelling zesty mint brought a few strands to her mouth kissed gently. Essence of Andréa. Untamed.

Times with Stephen or James had been for Miranda like a spectator, undressed and pounced on like a linebacker on a football grabbed a handful or pawed and groped with hands dipped in battery acid, being kneaded like pizza dough or squeezing melon produce, Miranda just went through the motions, get it over with, unzip dress, unzip fly. Lie back. Disengage.

With Andréa's words and soft but firm mouth and thankfully moisturized hands and non-protruding part sticking out, felt very engaged for the first time, Andy made Miranda's heart race. How could her 23 year old female former assistant make her _fr__é__mir _with such desire, pleasure, need and want? Such want. She wasn't sixteen anymore. Never been this swept away. Had lived with everything but Andréa.

Straddled. Atop of.

Squeaking at her pert behind cupped no gripped with a small squeeze as if claiming mine.

Your safe, you're with Andréa not Stephen.

Andréa doesn't hurt.

Smooth lean and taunt. Gentle strokes. Not rough or pain inflicted.

Groaned against. ''Want you so badly. _Mir_.'' Husking out her name, well part of it, was the sexiest thing she'd been called.

_Mir._ Liked it. Better than Stephen's _Randa _or James's_ Randy._

Andréa took in Miranda on her lap, read vivid blue eyes willing her to what she wanted. _Love me. Love me Andréa._ Guided Andréa's hands to touch her. Undress her.

Cradling Andréa's face tilting it into herself, running her own mouth in response over Andréa's lower lip trailed over her upper lip, raking and grazing it erotically languishing, tickling her philtrum. Exploring, what other sensation with her lips could she do to Andréa. Turn the tables on almost playful. Tantalize. Entice. Tease Andréa. They had all night.

Maybe it was the majestic stars Andréa had introduced to her or maybe it was the most beautiful words ever spoken to her on a pretend date describing their first doorstep kiss, impulsively Miranda had decided to kiss Andréa. Just kiss her. To give in. Just once. Taking the risk. Not think just feel. Feel Andréa.

Right now wanted nothing more than become Andréa's.

Miranda mused, she really should play a little hard to get. Bemused _woo _her. Perhaps she should've let Andréa begin project wooing. Warn Andréa how dangerous it can be. Flirting with, pursuing her could be hazardous.

Miranda Priestly had proven once how tempestuous she was in Paris to an unwelcomed amorous admirer who wouldn't cease complimenting her cleavage, told him in perfect French _'Do not talk to my breasts. You will not be meeting them.' _Then proceeded to staple his Charvet tie to the desk. Staff at Chic Paris and French Runway dubbed Miranda Priestly La Glace Madame, court the Lady of Ice proceed with supreme caution. Would never staple anything of Andy's to a desk.

Defrosted. Dethawed. De-iced by Andréa's raw warmth.

Planning to be made love to all night and stay in bed all of Sunday an experience Miranda had never done. Nor indulged in. Cocoon themselves in her bed and only leave it for nourishment. Waking up, tangled up near Andréa was something Miranda couldn't wait to experience. Wanted to savour everything that was Andréa.

Her cowl neck, Andy's jacket and oxford scattering the dhurrie rug, tingling inside as her hand trailed Andy's hard washboard abs. La Perla lace brushed Andréa's bare skin.

Heard it.

''_Andréa!''_

Mumbling against Miranda's soft skin, Andy half grumbled pleaded. ''No…no baby not yet.'' Half undressed.

Hissed in her ear. _''Andréa! ''_

''_I heard something. What was that! There listen.'' _Breaking glass.

Now Andy definitely heard it this time. Miranda got off of Andréa.

Squinting at a figure outside. Stephen.

Miranda's Ex Stephen standing outside. Thankful it was dark.

Scrambling, an ex-husband sure way to kill a mood, like cutting her lip on Hugh Comartin's braces in junior high, needing two stitches. In Andy's defense she was an exuberant kisser. Boisterous when she enjoyed something.

Andy exhaled frustrated at the interruption, at Stephen Tomlinson here. It was going so well, too well. The stars, her words to Miranda. This. They'd almost surpassed second base if not for Stephen. Pulling on her discarded shirt, handing Miranda her sweater which was snatched quickly.

Like high school again being caught behind bleachers making out by Principal 'Rat face Ratched' at one time Andy's nemesis. That Principal hated her, Andy's lack of comportment. Being a nonconformist. Insisting Sachs incited sedition on non-consumption of cafeteria food and banned books exchange. Checked her library card like a border patrol guard. Andy always took out Simone de Beauvoir, Rumi poetry and Sylvia Plath _scary stuff_. 'Rat face Ratched' had it in for her since Kindergarten and Grade 1 and Grade 2, wouldn't allow ET or Star Wars, GI Joe lunchboxes for girls.

If anyone's face could throw cold water on a situation Ratched could and now Stephen Tomlinson.

''Your Ex.'' Blowing hair out of her face wildly, buttoning her shirt. Smarting.

''Andréa we're still married.''

''WHAT.'' Andy looked hurt at Miranda she was almost about to engage in coital fornication carnally with someone still attached to the world's biggest douche bag. Commit adultery with her.

''Your still Stephen's wife!'' Was this an experimental fling? Just a lead Andy Sachs on game of flexisexuality tonight. _''Than what the hell is this to you, Mir. What am I to you?''_

''Keep your voice down.'' Soothed, seeing and hearing Andréa's hurt and confusion. ''We're separated. Stephen _is not _in my life Andréa. We're in the process of divorcing for the last few months. Stephen won't sign to finalise our divorce, he enjoys greatly contesting our prenuptial. Please my darling I…tracing Andy's mouth assuringly with her fingertips…'' This is not a whim to me, you're not…later we'll…please Andréa try to understand you cannot be here.''

Kissed quickly, soft lips hitting her nose. Pecking her nose bridge then rubbed like an Eskimo kiss. Received it angrily while slipping on her skinny jeans. Andy looked exactly like one did look like engaged in a make out session that fizzled, sticky, hot, pent up, titillated, bothered, unsated, whereas Miranda looked perfect. Like she stepped out of a photo shoot.

''I'm still mad at you.'' Miranda suppressed herself from flinging another kiss at mad lips, Andréa was adorable furious. Like a very very cross Labrador retriever.

Brushed aside Miranda's fingers on her arm coolly, hide, this was junior high all over again. Felt like the help or no the cabana boy. Services no longer required. Just sent to her room.

Miranda felt terrible doing this to Andréa, make it up to Andréa, definitely heard the disgruntled mumbled. ''Mir you can forget about poetry, chocolates or those tiny thoughtful tokens showering you when I woo you for _this_. Ooooh I'll take you to a film marathon of Lars Von Trier.''

Nope our first date will be at Fat Hen's Pool and Pints, a night of Foosball, Labatt Beer and jukebox of Journey & Air Supply. No thrills, no more stars for you.'' Andy warned leaving Miranda.

Hoped Andréa was kidding. Damn Stephen for ruining this.

Steeling herself to face Stephen.

Flipping on outside lights, arms folded Miranda Priestly slipped her icy face back on.

''_Miiraanda.''_ Slurring it. Wonderful he was inebriated.

Miranda did not care for Stephen when he was drunk. Made her hyperaware and wary.

Stephen Tomlinson was indeed drunk he'd driven himself while over the legal alcohol limit, in his shiny Jaguar F type to Southampton hell bent on breaking and entering Miranda's Beach House. Miranda was in the city, never know.

Smashing a window to break in. Stephen was going to show that frigid bitch he wore the pressed khakis by breaking in and stealing a painting worth a bundle.

Not for spite, for insurance fraud. A friend would offload it onto black market make sure it looked bad for Miranda. Claim she was hiding assets and trying to offload substantial funds under the table. Tax evasion. Determined to be a thorn in dear old ball & chain's Miranda's side. Her iron clad Prenuptial was like blue balling him cobalt. Advised by his divorce attorney he'd get _nothing _for his serial philandering.

Cancelling his name on all memberships and at the Country Club. That mercurial bitch. Now how was he supposed to impress clients at his firm with no ongoing drinking tab at the Club's bar? Pay for them himself.

Miranda Priestly once wife to him what a joke of a wife to him. Hardly submissive or obedient. Nag, nag. The woman was frumpy and unbearable. On her arm, he was Mr Priestly. A laughingstock to his fellow peers. Randa emasculated him at every opportunity. Only thing Miranda cared about was her excess baggage those two little replica redheaded terrors. Offspring of Runway's Xanthippe, mother dearest Medusa.

Had shown her a few times she may be' icy nothing penetrates or unravels the regal Snow Queen' Miranda Priestly but he, Stephen Tomlinson was stronger and made her flinch. What was that saying in his frat house as he was a Pledge Father? Brother Break a Bitch with threat of Backhand, Belt and Bruises. Sometimes a woman needed to know her place. Only way was to teach her it.

Stephen missed good times of frat life. That had been simple life of fun. Paddling, hazing pledges by traumatizing them for life, chugging down Kegs and Mad Dog and beer pong. No place better to shape a gentleman. All while wearing monogrammed shirts, docksiders and Nantucket reds and being Masters of their Inflated Universe while guzzling and vomiting their trust funds away. Blue blazered sexist misogynists.

Miranda didn't have anyone to step in between them and their escalating rows, broken a Lalique vase near her, punched a wall, only two times interrupted first by Isabella their Hispanic Housekeeper who'd heard Stephen's raised voice and saw the unfolding domestic disturbance.

Apologising profusely needing to go over that week's dinner party's menus she didn't understand written Anglo words, lucky Randa, another minute and he would have ripped down her pantyhose and skirt and shown her who the head of the house was.

Second time some assistant who had a nice boyish ass walked right in on them before he lost it.

Can't a husband have a little discussion with his property? Especially after being made to look like a chump at a table for one. Miranda couldn't just be a good wife and bend to him. Respect him.

Almost hit one of her pair of brats for ruining his Brioni dress shirt clumsily, went off the deep end, spilt grape juice stains but Mommy Tigress to the rescue, went at him.

Defending her babies. Stephen wryly smiled Miranda stood up to him, expected an inflicted vasectomy with bolt cutter by the look he received, warned to never lay a hand on Cassidy and Caroline. Stephen personally felt early corporeal punishment on her twins would have reaped wonders. Belted by his father never did him any harm or lasting damage. When they'd first married expected to get to know them, Miranda's kids, didn't like children very much. Especially another man's leftover ones. Parenthood heads up stay out of his way and don't touch or break _his_ things.

His mother Bunny was right he'd married a harridan, a silver haired termagant who was beneath him. _A Divorcee_ Stephen. Her lines don't go back to the Mayflower or in The Blue Book.

Mommy was a model of a Newport society wife still wore white gloves and Chanel and immensely enjoyed lime rickeys cocktails at 10 in the morning, a social drinker and referred to some lesser people as _there are those_ not allowed at the Club because Bunny was a narrow minded blue blooded bigot. Devoted to her baby Stephen, Bunny was a devout practionner of blind misandry and Stephen coddling and appeasing.

Lights came on illuminating him near broken glass and a crossed arms silhouette in the doorway.

Smiling in that loaded, shiteating grin, saw Miranda was alone. _Good._

''_Rraanda_.'' Stephen greeted his shrewish separated spouse. Swaying side to side. Stumbling over to her.

Firmly spoken to. ''Stephen leave.''

Stephen snapped. '_'Leave._'' Shaking his head, there she goes again telling him what to do. What was he her toy poodle. Snap her fingers and send him a way with 'that's all' with his tail between his legs.

No. No. Stephen Tomlinson was not a henpecked hubby holding Miranda's purse. Or a wiener.

Wrenched to him. ''I'll leave when I want to.''

''Stephen you're hurting me.'' Bringing tears to her eyes.

Breathing on her, smelt his favourite hard liquor, reeked of it. ''Randa maybe I want some _attention, affection_ from my wife.'' Miranda's stomach turned. ''You are still my wife Randa.'' Slurring those words, sloppily kissed missed her lips.

''She said leave and I'd let go of Miranda if I were you. Stephen Tomlinson.'' Stepped in between them.

For Andy it clicked, Miranda's eyes told her everything. Read Fear.

Andy knew there was something about him that wasn't right, it was a feeling an instinct deep in Andy. Now she knew. Everything made sense.

This cocky pompous prick scumbag was abusive to her. Made Andy's blood run cold. This parasitic worm better never have laid a finger on her.

Burping his response Stephen looked to Andy like a typical Abercrombie-wearing, former frat boy prick. Clear as day Stephen Tomlinson inhabited the tallest Ivoriest Tower of douchery.

Warned. ''Andréa.'' Her eyes said to go inside. Did not want to have any harm to come to Andréa by Stephen. Pleading blue.

''No can do Miranda. Someone has to defend you against this prick'' Released Miranda's arm from Stephen's grip.

''Now as I said it's time to leave Stevie.'' Andy stood in front of Miranda protectively.

Stephen went slack jawed. One of Miranda's little fawning assistant's telling him what to do as well. Isn't that just adorable. Cute blind devotion sure if Miranda demanded immolation this assistant would do so.

''Yeah that's right another worshiping disciple rallying to the great Miranda Priestly's side ready to defend, let you in on a little secret kiddo about this dried up frumpy bitch you idolize, you don't matter, one bit. No one matters to her. Except those two little spoiled brats of hers.''

Stephen ranted quite a few words of what Miranda was, one word that began with c that Andy took exception to, so being the pompous jackass he was never saw what was coming at him.

Andy was smug, proud of herself like getting a slew of A+'s on her report card, giddy she'd broken Stephen's nose. Punched that jerkoff. Decked him one. Made him squeal like a sobbing little girl. Then he left. Life was good. Monuments should be erected for her greatness.

Shame Miranda wasn't as elated. Chastised at like a stern schoolmarm. ''Of all the imbecile things to… Andréa do you have anything to say.''

''Yay I broke his nose.'' Andy responded.

Sheepish from intense blue eyes staring her down.

''Your completely unrepentantly incorrigible!''

Andy just nodded in agreement she was. Ah the sweet science of boxing. De la Hoya watch out. No pitty-pat punches from Andy Sachs. Full of herself. Boxing classes had come in handy. Nice full force jab at S.O.B. Stephen's nose.

Miranda examined Andy's hand '' May have broken your hand Andréa.'' Andy retaliated at lack of appreciation. ''That's a brilliant diagnosis nurse Mir. I can rest easy now.'' Feeling Miranda's fingers stroking her painful splayed palm.

Lying. ''Its fine.'' Pulled away.

Miranda raised a brow. ''Is it?'' Disbelief etched on her haughty face. ''Flex for me Andréa.'' Andy did so, keeping her face impassive, hurt like a mother.

Miranda knew Andy was lying through her teeth. ''Grip.''

Andy tried to. Wincing. Couldn't. ''Oww It hurts.''

Miranda sniffed and got up opening the fridge door for ice. ''As it should.'' Wasn't earning her sympathy. ''I detest pugilism Andréa you are not a MMA fighter or a member of a Fight Club.''

Folding a waffled towel with ice cubes. Would wrap up Andrea's swollen hand even if a part of her was furious at Andrea. Not because Andrea decked Stephen. No. Stephen could go to hell. Pausing seeing flecks of Stephen's blood on Andréa's skin and shirt. Composing herself what if it had been Andréa hurt.

Icing her hand. Ran ice pack along her knuckles, held. Tsked as Andy tried to endear herself again to frosty Miranda. '' Ahh Mir, he made me, he asked for it…what he called you. I had to. Couldn't just let it go. He hurt you. Mir. ''

Met with silence. Defending herself. '' I'm not sorry I hit him it's just Mir, I lost control, I can become very protective of what's mine.'' With her good hand, squeezed Miranda's side.

''Yours?''

''Mine of course after proper wooing ala Sachs.'' Andy waggled her brows.

Miranda eyes met and searched Andy's brown eyes tenderly. Had a feeling that these feelings, this chemistry would last eternally. They were treading to becoming a _We._ Slow down Miranda.

''Don't you ever do something so stupid, so recklessly violent and incredibly brave ever again.'' Kissed on the cheekbone. Kissed on those stubborn lips that were pouting.

Andy bit her lip trying not to grin. ''Do you know that this gesture however violent you perceive it, Mir you now owe me your full gratitude for defending you and your honour.''

Holding the ice pack on Andy's injury. ''Do I? Well I'll have to carefully consider how to repay you adequately.'' Tracing Andrea's mouth, meeting her lips.

Besides Miranda also owed Andy a clean t-shirt. Without mascara & her tear stains. Now a checked oxford with Stephen's blood on it. All in all Andy's wardrobe was starting to have splatters of Miranda incidents. Wouldn't have it any other way.


	17. Chapter 17

_Monday Morning in Midtown Traffic_

Andréa Sachs had lied to her.

Miranda reread the note left for her, pinned to her mug on Sunday morning. It had been an impromptu and unexpected gesture. Cradling the wrist watch that didn't work, left atop Andrea's note. Miranda's fingertips traced the watch's face and read.

_Good Morning Mir,_

_I have to leave earlier today to the city, sorry, brunch with Lizzie. So, I suppose you want me to begin this wooing of you I promised. Since we've let our hearts collide._

_That watch you're holding is not any old watch, I've had it for a years, yesss, and I know it's broken but I like to think it stops moments. It was given to me by someone who was incredibly wise about freezing moments. I give it to you to stop more than moments. Mir, you're lucky I'm around you now, to share such phenomenally corny gifts into your life._

_Many more to come….._

_Trust me its way better than me attempting to serenade you with my Appalachian dulcimer! Ed Sheeran look out. Crooning Sachs = Howling dogs. Buy Patricia ear plugs._

_On Monday morning, I will interrogate Emily! On all she knows of you. Maybe threaten to take her to Brooklyn's 'Pies n'Thighs'. If asked my intentions I will assure they may or may not be naughty and carnal. I will force Em to clear your Monday evening where it might be fun not knowing where I'm taking you._

_Yours Forever and Always_

_Andy_

Scrunching up the love note. She was tempted to rip it to shreds. On Sunday she had loved it, this Monday morning she hated it and hated the sender equally.

She was such a fool to believe any of it from Andréa. Never should have. A colossal blind fool to believe anything of Andy what she did and said was true. Or even real.

Sitting in traffic, chauffeured by Roy. Despite the humidity today the frost emanating from Miranda Priestly could freeze May.

Not quite trusting herself what she was going to do to that deceitful, conniving, mendacious, inveigling lying person with honest _like hell_ eyes. One Andréa Sachs. Lulled to trust her. Ply and played along with words and stars. Lies. Unscrupulous & Depraved.

Miranda pursed her lips.

Looked upon Andréa Sachs like a disease. Experienced Andréa. It's over. Miranda was immune.

_They'd almost_.

Some type of sick sweeten the deal bonus of bedding the Boss. _Her._

Should send a basket of gratitude to Stephen for inadvertently interrupting them and narrowly saving Miranda from becoming Andréa's conquest. To think Andréa and her would have been_ almost intimate with one another._

Wouldn't have just shared her bed, her body, would've shared her heart. Now she felt like it had been ripped out, piece by piece.

Not what I thought you were Andréa? Hurt and fury shone equally in Miranda's lucid eyes. She prayed she wouldn't see Andrea not today, she would be happy if she never saw her again.

Irony, she had actually felt bad yesterday finding Andréa had forgotten her phone, Miranda couldn't resist snooping through Andréa's phone, scrolling a few goofy shots, stopped on one flashing IM reading it, the text made her livid. The text changed everything she knew to be truth.

Never again was she entrusting her heart. Least of all to the lowest of life forms Andréa Sachs

Roy glanced at The Dragon Lady while stalling in traffic. The staff at Runway may need a dire warning of the way their Editor looked today. Pursed lips and trademark sunglasses.

Something was bothering Miranda Priestly, Roy was no fool, he'd seen when picking her up at her Beach House early this morning, the puffy eyes and the tear stained cheeks, the boss had tried to hide behind sunglasses. Someone had hurt Miranda Priestly. Not angered her, wounded her.

He slid to a stop in front of the busy Elias-Clarke Building. Getting out to open the door.

17TH Floor Runway Offices

Andy rummaged through her bag for her phone, must have left it at Lizzie's this morning. Stepping off the elevator on the 17th Floor into Runway. All righty, time to corner Emily.

Emily Charlton was in her haloed and coveted office, with breathless white orchids on her desk, trying to Zen herself calm. Her eyes were closed as she heard the door open. All lingering wafts from her sprayed rose scent leaving her at hearing a voice and who was standing in her doorway, admittedly a vast improvement from the first day HR sent her, Andrea but still Emily looked heavenward

Why this morning? Miranda was due any minute and it was muddle through it whatever happens Monday.

''Em, I need a favour.''

Emily's brow rose. Crossing her arms. She was no naïve waifish intern or girl Friday, she was old enough to demand the 'What' before agreeing to any favours. Listening to Six. The favour had her brows rising and rising with disbelief. Tightening her hand on the Ipad the appointment diary of Miranda's busy schedule.

''Shan't do that. Preposterous. No way am I, altering Miranda's schedule unless by her.'' Emily looked scandalised at Andrea's request.

Under no circumstance whatsoever unless something happened to Cassidy and Caroline would there be any changes made without Miranda's explicit permission or knowledge. Period. Was Andrea out of her mind? Trying to get her sacked…

Andy stared down Emily it wasn't like she asking for entry into Korean DMZ just wanted Em to clear Monday Evening off of Miranda's calendar.

''Em what are Miranda's favourite flowers? Does she have any food allergies?''

Andy only knew her lunch and coffee order. Wasn't privy to more except work related.

Deciding to evoke flattery to Emily. ''If anyone knows I know you would Em.''

Emily distractedly murmured. ''White Parrot tulips and once Irises. Miranda cannot eat Walnuts and Pine Nuts'' Gasping like Andy asked a perverse question of Emily to dance naked with only a tea cosy on her head while juggling or just shared nuclear codes with Andy.

'' That's very confidential information. Six. Miranda's a very private person.'' Poking Sachs shoulder with each word punctuated. Emily took in Andrea worried, no telling what she'd do with such information.

''Thanks you're the best Em.'' Gushing gratitude.

Andy annoyed Emily by smiling that escaped from Disneyland grin that she'd had to endure every day now. Monday to Friday unbridled optimism. What was happening to Runway? Letting writers who were as enthusiastic as Golden retriever puppies into her magazine? Where was the cynical biting witty and downright snide writers gracing the pages of Emily's fashion bible?

Had Miranda gone through everyone that she now was forced to endure the fashionably dyslexic Six?

It was a good thing Miranda had _her _to rely on, not hopeless Andrea the beaming dental whitening billboard that could blind pedestrians and that sunny okey dokey nature.

Glancing at Andy's wrapped hand. ''Brawl you should see the other guy.'' Emily wrinkled her nose. Grimacing. Sachs was so savage and uncivilised sometimes.

Woodsy like an Ozark lumberjack or a lovechild of The Waltons roaming NYC with gumption and gullibility and oh shucks. Tragic that people like her existed and multiplied. Plaid shirts and Levis, Emily shuddered inwardly.

At least a bit of Runway rubbed off on Andréa Sachs, dressing better these days than that hideous skirt she was no doubt handed down by her grandmother and had worn in public on her very first day at Runway. Emily still had flashbacks of horror.

Dressed better in Emily's opinion, Sachs attired in skinny jeans and dark blue chambray fitted French cuffed shirt today, other day Helmut Lang, Nigel had cooed his approval. His little Six was now able to read labels. Whole wide world out there past Gap, LLBean and Casual Corner.

Haley was amusing Andy on primitive courtship practices some downright bizarre, meticulously carved 'lovespoons' custom given to your intended from Wales, Andy shook her head picturing 'Here Mir a sign of my love a wooden piece of cutlery because I may have a quarter Welsh in me.' or because Andy was 1/4th descent of Cherokee and 1/3rd Navajo, I've decided to bring you a horse as a worthy bridal price, 'Hi Uncle Daniel, send me a colt.' Could always have him courier a courting blanket.

No way could Andy match the bride gift of traditional 4 to 100 equines on Fifth Avenue.' Certainly not be dancing with apple slices under armpits from 19th Century Austria, or Atayal Tribe of Taiwan brought a head to win a heart, barf inducing, maybe Irv Ravitz's though and thankfully evolved from the courting stick or fight with a pandanus plant like the Usaba Samba Festival of Bali or coded whistles exchanges from the Kickapoo of Mexico or Dyngus Day douse someone you like with water.

Haley gushed to Andy about one guy giving her a Papua New Guinea Fertility Gourd. One lovely courtship ritual from Victorians, not the gourd was a pair of gloves given to your intended to wear but it was hot May.

Andy grumbled great she'd worked herself into first date jitters, didn't want it to be the worst date ever, many times with waitering she'd seen it all go downhill. Fast.

Started off brill. Flowers, Compliments, Nice Table than it began.

Andy had seen it all.

There was the mushy date, the hands all over you date, the flashy cocky date who cannot stop talking about themselves and how much they make and in need of a mirror glued to their hand permanently, the foot in mouth syndrome date who says awkward things like kissing someone and then saying you have to go to the bathroom, the boring date with someone you'd rather have a dental procedure or jump off a cliff to get away from, the fidgety touchy date who has to drum the table or bob their head like a baby giraffe or tap their phone all night, the unmannerly date that splits everything and implies you ate more as if you have the feeding capacity of a pregnant hippo. All dreaded prospects.

Andy didn't want to be any of those dates with Miranda. Determined to be the perfect date, she'd hold doors and pull out Miranda's chair, pay for their date no going Dutch from Andy, no talking about Ex's, compliment and listen, keep her hands to herself, maybe an occasional touch on her arm and definitely slip her hand on Miranda's back escorting her to her door. If it rained she'd hold the umbrella.

Now if she didn't have nail biting hours till 8pm to be preparing, what was she doing wiling away this morning leisurely when she had plans to arrange?

A first amazing date with Miranda Priestly. No pressure. Oh gawd, breathe Sachs. What if she hates it? What if she never wants to see you again because it was such a horrible date together? What if you chose Italian and she wanted Kaiseki Haute Cuisine. What if over artisan bread basket and filled water goblets you lose it completely and declare your love to Mir.

No Sachs nice and slow wooing. Even if Miranda knocks you off your feet with frisson. Slow approach. Measured. Subtle.

With Emily away from her desk sorting out an emergency of a model and crew showing up in Barbuda instead of Bermuda, chanting 'I love my job.' Through clenched teeth.

Andy slipped inside Miranda's office, with a glance at Miranda's neat desk, Andy left a note on her stack of newspapers.

Had too much to do to ensure Miranda saw her again. Told Emily in a post it note, she'd be off for today, work from home. Send it in later.

Andy had a plan.

8pm

It was perfection, everything anybody would want for a first date. Miranda observed hollowly a rooftop restaurant's dining terrace overlooking the city skyline. Table for two no other diners but them. Reserved as a private function. Sachs and party of one. Spitefully Miranda had considered standing Andréa up but decided firmly to see this through, wanted to face this little liar. Look into her lying eyes.

Confront Andréa tonight that she knew.

That text made her eyes burn. Composing herself. Beware The Dragon Lady.

Greeted with a quick kiss to her cheekbone, very convincing Andréa. Feigning nerves or is it a guilty conscious if you even possess one. Had the mating habits of a vile sloth.

Something was missing, something not the same, it was like Miranda was looking through her.

Where was the person Andy ran after on the sandy beaches of The Hamptons, Mir who'd she held when she wept, kissed. Almost made love to. Cold as a freezer. Not one word about her choice or if Miranda even liked it. If at all.

The trees and boughs were tied with shimmering fairy lights blinking in the evening. Lovely warm night. Andy was simultaneously put out, hurt and disappointed was almost sure Miranda would've loved this place.

Andy bit the bullet watching Miranda swirl her glass disconnected. Illuminated in the flickering candlelight across from her.

''Is something wrong Mir?'' Miranda's eyes shot up, held no warmth resembling ice.

''Miranda, Do. Not. Call. Me. Mir.''

Andy's brows furrowed at the unflinching tone. ''Long day at Runway for you I guess. I can listen and interject any words of 'idiots or what were they thinking.' Lightening the tense mood.

''Please. Enough of your…Miranda glared at Andréa and her fake interest and mock concern, '' Tell me how was brunch with Lizzie?'' Steepling her chin with her fingers. One chance Andréa Sachs. Do not lie to me.

Burden your mouth Andréa Sachs with the truth to me. Be contrite.

Andy shrugged casually. ''Fine. I suppose. It was just plain old brunch. I'll bring you next time.'' Picturing Miranda in her regular Sunday breakfast corner booth. 'The Maple Goose' was very informal. Could be fun.

Miranda studied Andréa carefully, lying right to her face hurt her deeply. Did it so easily to her. Everything was made up anyway. Everything that came out of Andréa's mouth a game.

''Stop. Just stop. Andréa.'' Miranda bit out.

''Just enough, I can't do this.'' Placing down her linen napkin.

Andy looked stricken. ''Do what Miranda?'' Have I done something wrong? To you?''

''_Have you done something to me_.'' Miranda swallowed angrily. ''You're unbelievable Andréa Sachs!'' Bristling, reining in her icy temper. Almost standing up from the table, almost about to throw a glass of Australian red wine at Andy.

Actually was beginning to tentatively trust this detestable person in front of her, should've known better actions of total disregard for Miranda and her work had once proven how reliable Andréa Sachs was with Paris.

'' Here I so do hope Irv compensated you enough for my company.'' Holding out Andy's phone, caught.

Andy's eyes widened. Guiltily. '' Miranda I…''

Miranda recited the text from Irving Ravitz word for word.

''Progress on Dragon yet? Remain close to Priestly. Tell me everything between you both. Will discuss bonus at Sunday brunch.

There's more from Irv and Andréa there all about me.''

Willing herself do not cry. Andréa would probably toast her tears with Irv. Sip champagne and toast her tears.

''Miranda listen it's not…..''

''Not what I think.'' Her eyes shone deep hurt.

'' Save it for someone who actually cares. Andréa you make me sick.'' Flung the phone at Andy. Getting up from their table.

What was making a fool of Miranda and almost bedding her another added bonus. Sick payback for all the times she treated Andréa inferiorly. Some type of conquest to screw. Andréa you have no right. Silly of me believing anything of this or the possibility of _almost us_ mattered to you. _I mattered to you._

'' Mir just listen…Andy received such a look at calling her Mir. ''Miranda, wait, please don't go… let me explain everything to you.'' Andy pleaded. ''Just try to understand by listening to my reason.''

''_Please Miranda_. _Listen to me.''_

No explanation for Andréa's venal ways. Couldn't explain it away. It was there in each text.

''Do you know what the droll irony I was actually for a moment before this ruse, wanting to know you Andréa Sachs. Now I don't want to ever know or for that matter be anywhere near you. I am quite through here.'' Left Andy.

Watching Miranda leave. Immune to her calling after her.

Damn Irv Ravitz for texting her with that bribe and stupid her for leaving her phone at Miranda's Beach House to find.

Great Sachs you love Miranda and she can't stand you. Andrea waved the waiter away with the parrot tulips and Miranda's favourite orchestra's tickets. So this is what it felt like to be left at a table for two.


	18. Chapter 18

For Andy Sachs it had been three weeks of total distain for her from Miranda. Anything communicated was through Emily or Haley. Nigel even noticed the chill exuded to Six.

Andy had given up trying to corner and explain, struck out with Miranda Priestly in every possible way, if she'd only listen to her. No reprieve or making amends with the Dragon Lady. Even half a chance. Was sure of where she stood with Miranda, in her lucid blue eyes Andréa Sachs was sewage.

Andy had tried desperate. With one Starbucks order of Miranda's, put with packet of stars and a pack of cherry blossom seeds next to the piping hot coffee order of ''one no-foam skimmed latte with an extra shot and three drip coffees with room for milk''.

Haley was told to reprimand Starbucks were they giving things out like Happy Meals.

Probably binned them and the exquisite cattleya orchid Andy left one morning, orchids meant rare beauty & strength, that's how Andy saw Miranda.

The night cleaning staff were accused of leaving it behind. Annoyed with Andy's random horticultural botanical gestures.

This week left violets and a small volume of poetry by Blanche Shoemaker Wagstaff.

Week before that a blue morphos butterfly from Mariposa Butterfly Gallery with a poem by John Keats that begun…_' I almost wish we were butterflies…_

Andy swore with the Brazilian Blue Morpho's she'd found an object in this case a Lucite boxed flying insect that resembled Miranda's eyes.

One of Andy's favourite poems _'I do not love you as if you were salt-rose… '_ By Pablo Neruda, sneakily put it in with 'The Book'. The next night undeterred enclosed another Pablo Neruda's poem _'I crave your mouth…'_

Miranda's response big red X's through each poem, left on Andy's desk. Next time a copy of Gustave Flaubert's letter to his wife it started_. 'I will cover you with love when next I see you…_

Andy was left with a reminder of sexual harassment in the work place with MP initialled stationary note to desist distributing obscene material to her.

That's my little surly hard to woo curmudgeonly Dragon.

Sooner or later would wear Miranda down to talk to her.

Somehow. Eventually. They still had months' ahead, side by side.

Andy's wish happened on Wednesday, Miranda met with Irving Ravitz at 10:30, that meeting had her in a mood all morning.

Heads were not on pikes by after lunch, Andy had her lunch at her desk usually, and today bored with whatever it was she'd bought herself to eat, had once two weeks ago tried to share lunch with Miranda.

Had even went to the trouble of ordering Miranda's usual at Smith & Wollensky. Miranda's order never arrived. Andy knew the Maître'd. Had made sure it didn't.

Under the guise they'd have to share, go figure Andy had ordered the exact same, wow that's so weird. Since she'd paid for it. Tried to share and in vain talk to Runway's Editor.

Told brusquely by Miranda she'd lost her appetite. Stomped off in her red soled Louboutins.

Andy just wanted a little reaction from Miranda, not the constant see through her, and dissolve the ice in her eyes towards her.

Miranda pinched her nose bridge, appeared they were stuck together this evening. Irv's explicit wishes after all Miranda was supposed to be guiding Runway's new writer. Nurturing the new talent.

Wonderful hadn't spoken to Andrea for weeks since that night, still smarted by Andrea's lies. In truth very hurt. None of it was real.

Cry? Miranda didn't know a woman her size had so much water in her when she'd left Andrea at the table. Placed her icy mask firmly back on.

Miranda was staunchly livid Sachs had been persistently wooing her at Runway office, leaving plants, books of poetry, a boxed butterfly which in truth was exquisite and the bothersome nightly erotic poems by Pablo Neruda left in The Book for her. How dare Sachs do these gestures to her? Particularly at Runway. On very thin ice.

Why did Sachs persist still? Miranda knew it was lies, all of it at the Beach House.

Vowing Andrea Sachs would be remaining at a safe distance. Put her Blahnik heels down at Chilean love poems, orchids and butterfly wings.

Informed Emily to tell Sachs she needed her.

Watching Andréa leaving, called after by Emily.

''Apparently you'll be accompanying Miranda tonight.'' Emily spoke with incredulity.

Emily had indeed noticed the frostiness from Miranda towards Andréa for the last few weeks. Kind of hard not to miss the animosity.

Emily's father was warmer to his mother in law, Emily's dotty Gran and they both loathed each other mutually and were ready to commit homicide by Boxing Day every Xmas. Every year shambles.

Sachs must have bungled up big time. Well at least it wasn't anything to do with you Charlton.

''To where?'' Andy eyes went wider, surprised. Finally they'd be closer. Alone together.

Emily quipped curtly. ''How should I know, I _never_ ask Miranda anything.'' Given a harsh look to go, and just wait by the lobby elevator Sachs for Miranda.

Dogs could follow orders better.

_7:45pm Mimsie Colville's East 65th Street Townhouse_

Fun and Festive that's what the brochure and embossed gift certificate promised, Miranda looked to Andy like it held the promise of purgatory.

''Welcome, welcome everyone.'' Handed out aprons by Mimsie Colville who had trained at every culinary school, this was her passion cooking. Giving lessons and small group classes, all very exclusive.

Andy read on the certificate, Irv was the winning bidder of $9500 on six month private culinary classes with a group of six. $9500! Months and months of rent.

Damn not the archery class but then again a sport with pointed arrows and weapons with Miranda, not a good idea. She knew exactly who would be volunteered to hold an apple on her head.

Andy grumbled give her an evening of pretending to play Katniss or Robin Hood instead of this she could duck and run fast.

Reading the menu disgusted. Had enough about food, cuisine with Nate. Mutinous. Her eyes scanned the cooking utensils with disdain.

On the board, a dish chefs call 'Lovebirds' Roasted Quail and white truffles with a port sauce, Sachs just think of it like avoiding Great Auntie Gladys's fruitcake or jellomold.

Fill up on free Brie and fancy crackers and grapes. Dessert was Tiramisu thank god something edible. Andy had a sweet tooth.

Nice little gathering of six, mingling with Trent & Dan who'd adopted and were florists the other couple Katie and Sam who had a French Bulldog named Snicker-doodle together. If it survived maybe kids next. Had already grown plants together at an urban farm.

They both found out 'Couples Cooking' that wasn't just the worse part, since each came together they'd stay as pairs and make an assigned dish together for 3 hours. Dine all together in a soiree with Mimsie after with what they created.

Miranda and Andy were going to kill each other. A couple. Them.

Andy couldn't resist boldly putting an arm around Miranda because she'd been gulping down the glass of expensive wine and Mimsie had picked them to be the couple to prepare and make dessert. The Tiramisu. Goody!

''_Wow that's so us we love dessert.''_ Winking, ''we're just so compatible aren't we _honey_.'' Mouthing 'love bug'.

''Should see her when she eats an omelette.''

Miranda stiffened elbowing handsy Andréa away from her. Quietly into Andréa's ear, her lip momentarily brushed Andy's earlobe. ''Get your hand off me. Andrea.''

Dropping her hand from Miranda's designer silk blouse sleeve.

Honestly Andrea had been quaffing that vintage with gusto. Inhaled it, don't eat the glass Andrea. Looked like she would rather be anywhere else but here. Typical anything like opera or the beauty of a couture dress or culture in general was lost on Andrea.

A Philistine.

Andrea's last submitted piece an interview with a up and coming soprano, Miranda swore she'd written deliberately dull just to get a response back from Miranda via Emily.

Andy almost snorted at the absurdity of tonight, lovers not ever likely now, Miranda could barely look at her without contempt.

Pulling on her apron. This was going to be one swell evening. Together. Could hardly wait.

Like a fancy gourmet version of Home Ec, stuck with Miranda who hates her guts.

Andy knew one thing she could come up with thousands of cringing endearments to get at Miranda. Since everyone presumed they were together_, together_.

Hundreds she could use to Dragon Lady Wrangle. Lots of loving endearments to get under that skin.

There was Honey bunny, Snookum's, Baby cakes and so many more downright nauseating pet names. Intent on using every one of them tonight.

Miranda shook her head at Andréa's inane behaviour tonight, noticed Andréa's tattoo on her right inner bicep, of course you have a tattoo Andréa Sachs. Why wasn't she surprised?

What was it? Straining to take a peek. What are you doing Miranda who cares if Andrea has a tattoo?

''What?'' Self-conscious at Miranda's perusal. Tying her apron.

Miranda quirked a small satisfied smile, setting out with order what they'd need to begin the Tiramisu, gasped as Andréa tied her apron behind her. Feeling slender fingers holding her waist, almost patted her bottom.

''Do so and you'll be grating or stirring without fingers.'' Took the hint.

Mimsie mistook them even more so for a couple over Miranda's glasses, Andréa found them in her bag and handed the lenses to her thoughtfully. Snatched from Andy. Adorable.

All went silent as the grave as Mimsie compared cooking to making love, full of surprises you cannot predict, unexpectedly if fused well, stirs the senses. Touch. Taste. Smell. Let flavours burst. Icebreaker huh. Terrific Culinary porn.

Andy knew every term because of _Nate_. That's when she equated love with being a lovesick puppy and agreed with everything. Did what _Nate_ wanted to do. Went where _Nate_ wanted to go. Andy was never happier now having rein over her free time like watching what she wanted on Netflix, and doing what she wanted to do on weekends.

Trent and Dan knew Miranda Priestly the legend they were making the 'Quail and Truffles'. Both gushed almost bobbed a curtsey. T & D were buff preppy show offs and fashion encyclopaedias. Who were like Martha Stewart's male equivalents and nosey as maiden aunts. Especially about Andy & Miranda's love life.

''How did you two meet?'' Dan asked Miranda eagerly.

Andy was enjoying this immensely.

''Was it love at first sight or hate?'' Trent queried.

Andy snorted considering Miranda was stuck trying to explain their fake relationship. Priceless.

Glowered at by Miranda icily.

''We…while we weren't very fond of one another.'' Cutting her eyes at Andrea.

Sachs was enjoying this misunderstanding with glee.

Irv Ravitz would be the only person to bid on 'Couples Cooking' with celebrated chef Mimsie Colville and insist Miranda Priestly attend with Sachs.

Miranda hadn't accused Irving of anything like sabotage via Sachs seduction this morning, sat there with cold indifference and simply agreed which made Irv nervous. Miranda being so amicable about anything must surely be forewarned doom of some sort. It was.

''Andréa and I feel many emotions deeply towards each other. Very Strongly.''

Her eyes stormy blue. Felt pure loathing, hate, repulsion, revulsion, detestation the list went on and on for Andréa Sachs. With unbridled vehemence. Smashing the lady fingers with vicious glee.

Interrupted by Andy. ''I was her assistant.'' Andy decided against coming up with a risqué story of being seduced by the Boss just to rile Miranda.

Wouldn't want Miranda's beautiful baby blues to pop out of her head with how regally tightly wound she was or suffer an apoplexy if Andy made up being prompted for love in the elevator.

''So you both met at work, was it immediate sparks?'' Trent asked.

Miranda swallowed at Andréa's expected words, expect anything. Anything to humiliate her. Andy eyes lit up.

''For me I felt this developing attraction and her being _Miranda Priestly_ was a little intimidating and she's _Little Miss_ _Excoriating & Miss Bossy Pants _and me being her lowly assistant, not a chance in hell, I'm a schlub compared, so when if I _ever_ do, will I get the nerve to say ask her out.''

Trent nodded understanding. '' How does one persistently pursue such perfection.'' Dan interjected. ''Poor Andy not good enough for a paragon.'' Miranda rolled her eyes.

''To Miranda here I'm just a phone-answering, errand fetching automaton.'' Andy recalled a lot of outrageous La Priestly requests. Chuckling at once being told she breathed too loud and typed too loud in her second week with Miranda.

Her personal favourites, spent a long weekend handcrafting 150 valentines' cards for Cassidy and Caroline's classes. Took weeks to get rid of red, pink sparkles out of her carpet, bed and clothes. Nate had been _so_ mad. Or the time picking up twins homework and Required Reading lists at Dalton and having to courier it to Miranda's Ex for the weekend. Synopsis all ten books for the twins.

Between getting eggs for Miranda's breakfast every Tuesday, picking up Surfboards to Lingerie was a shake your head along the way adventure.

'' I can't just write 'Go out with me' on countless Starbucks paper cups that I fetched through torrential rain four times in one afternoon because it wasn't hot enough and I caught the flu over. Or leave a note on her dog's collar Patricia a St Bernard I flea dipped. So I soldiered on in silent adoration, keeping this passion in check, than Paris happened.'' Shaking her head sadly.

Miranda almost choked on her sip of wine, Sachs mentioning Paris was dangerous territory even in jest. Tread carefully Andréa. I still hate you. So much.

''Yeah Paris, Sugar lips what an epic disaster between us.'' Ignoring Miranda's warning eyes. '' So I'm leaving, just walking away during Fashion Week on the busiest day.''

Miranda smirked at Andrea over Trent and Dan's absolute shock. Someone saw her point. Andréa was reprimanded by both who were disgusted.

'' Andy that is so _petulantly_ _childish_ and _unreliable_ for Miranda. _Fashion Week._'' In full support of Camp Miranda. Andy was looked down at like she wore white after Labor Day or sludge on Blahniks.

Miranda liked her new culinary companions on her side. Feeling a gratified affinity to them. Even Katie agreed. ''Sucky thing to do Andy.''

Sam was Andy's wingman. '' Well maybe it had to be done.'' Defended. Almost gave high- fives to Sam My Man for having her back in this fictional relationship. No trotting dutifully after Miranda for Andy Sachs.

Planning how her new found buddy Sam & she would 'Go hiking together, drink coronas', get tickets to the Knicks and watch the World Series'. Good man.

Katie gave Sam a look of disgust.

Miranda could keep her team of Katie, Trent & Dan.

''In Sam's words it had to be done, because of Little Princess Machiavellian here, whom I was livid at and my French is very Pepé Le Pew and my cab's stalled on the Place de la Concorde and I realise I didn't do something in the most exquisite and beautiful city ever. Should've have, but didn't.''

Katie, Trent and Dan were riveted. ''Do what Andy?''

''I swear I have to do this. Before I leave. So I zoom out of the taxi.''

''I see Miranda's car stuck in traffic and I rush over through crazy French motorists and they drive berserk. Honking and yelling a few choice words that I know are rude and I open her limo door. Miranda's all prepared for Fashion Week and in all that glitzy finery and my Baby's pissed at me. Really pissed. I can tell by her eyes and her lip purse.''

Sam laughed at Andy's warning to watch out for the _pursing lips_.

''Sexy Legs here is mad as hell I left her assistant less… I'm trying my best to convince Miranda with words she can do anything to me, anything but I am not leaving just yet. She's being difficult because it's Miranda Priestly. My ex-boss I just walked out on less than an hour ago.''

Andy added convincingly. ''Telling Miranda here to close her eyes and shut her mouth. Just be quiet for once…'' Sam sniggered at Andy's assertion

'' I want to, I need to tell you this than I'll go away. For good.''

No more hesitation, I muster up a lot of bravery doing this, I have to do this to her, so I lean in, take her chin with my finger under it and Miranda and I are in the backseat. I kiss her and in it I'm telling her. '' I screwed up. I'm sorry. I'll never leave again. Forgive me.''

''That's how we crashed into each other.''

Earning an 'Ahhh.'' Katie muttered over tossing the salad how Sam only thought Carnations and a box of a dozen Red Velvet Cupcakes after an almost breakup and bought her 'Snicker-doodle' with a bow as a pledge of his commitment. Going after someone out on a limb.

Dan gave an approval of gushy. ''Oh Andy so sudsy! '' Trent raved. ''Miranda that's swoony hallmark.''

Andy sipped her red wine, looking adorably dishevelled with sugar and flour all over her. ''I couldn't miss my one chance at true love. I meant every word.'' Her eyes lingered on Miranda. Willing her to see she meant it. She wished she had done exactly that. In Paris. Andy Sachs you should've.

Miranda shook her head _Pep__é__ Le Pew French_ and _Ms Excoriating, Ms Bossy Pants_. Wait a minute. _Sexy Legs!_

Baffle me more and more in everything that is you, Andréa Sachs.

Mimsie reminded the Quails weren't going to cook themselves as everyone went back to their assigned dish.

In sync as Andy was delegated to handing ingredients to Miranda. Andy couldn't stir because of her punching Stephen injury. Lightly tapped Andy's other hand not to taste, worse than Car and Cass with chocolate chip dough when she baked.

On the counter Andy's toned arm draped the countertop, giving Miranda each thing requested. Over the rim of her glasses.

Now a better look at _it._ An upside down black triangle.

''You have a tattoo.''

Andy glanced at her inner arm. ''Oh, yeah, this.'' Rubbing it.

''Figures.'' Miranda sniffed her disapproval, ''A tattoo. Your mother must be elatedly proud.''

Andy frowned what the hell did Miranda mean by that, she wasn't kicking it in biker bars or part of the Maras, the Vory or the Yakuza. Not trailer trash inked.

Andy leaned closer to Miranda. ''The question is Miranda is it only a tattoo on my arm.''

'' Do I have only one you ponder? Might be more in other areas. Maybe my number of how many I've bedded. I am as you dubbed me a serial nympholist.''

''One night stand inked.'' Andy tried not to grin, teasing.

In every possible way Andy was far from being a casual sex maniac.

Earning a blush from Miranda who began stirring the bowl, mixing faster irritated. ''Atrociously vulgar statement Andréa.''

_Did_ Andrea have any other tattoos? Oh for crying out loud Miranda who cares if she has twenty from NY Fleet Week.

Touched, stroking Miranda's hand gently with her finger, stopped whisking. Resting her hand over Miranda's hand, interlocking with hers and pressed down into. Miranda inhaled breathless at the sudden kneading.

Andy's breath brushing and tickling her nape, turning her silvery head away. Why was Andrea still persisting with _this?_ Wasn't it enough knowing that she did react to Andrea?

''Maybe I'll have to show you where they are on me. Guide you to the exact part.'' Brown eyes flirty, mischievously sparkling.

Pinned between Andy's arms against the counter as she turned. Clearly everything to Sachs was some type of lewd game.

Andrea Sachs was a tattooed liar and insensitive pig to _feelings _and _love._ Her blue eyes narrowing, so you like games do you Andrea.

Miranda quirked an evil smile, raking her finger along Andrea's apron and collarbone. Trailing playfully along the rim than up and down, Andy stiffened under her touch. Was this bothering Sachs.

Andy cleared her throat. ''Would you stop doing that. Miranda.'' Teasingly running her finger over Andrea's suprasternal notch slowly.

Warning as Miranda's face was a picture of mock innocence of a new born fawn. ''What?''

''Andrea, I've been thinking about that night at the Beach House when we…you do remember don't you? '' Implying with her sultry crystalline eyes what they almost were about to do. Have Sex.

Still raking her finger over Andy sensually, was it suddenly really hot in here, Andy swallowed dryly, croaked strained. ''Ugh huh.''

To Miranda, Yetis had more coherent communication skills.

''I can't stop thinking this over and over.'' Leaning up, lingering her fingertip on Andy's lips.

Smeared with mascarpone cream across Andrea's nose. ''That Never in Your Wildest Dirty Dreams Andrea Sachs Will You Ever Have Sex with Me.'' Her vivid baby blues chilly as a sub-zero freezer at Andy.

Andy admitted defeat. Dropping her arms. Freeing Miranda.

Miranda Priestly still had it.

''Oookay Miranda but you'll just have to _stop_ ogling me and my tattoos and when you see them my killer abs.'' Leaning close to Miranda, her lips almost an inch away from hers.

Why did she encourage Sachs?

She was not ogling anybody. Certainly would not be ogling Andrea Sachs abs or any of her tattooed or not tattooed body parts. Miranda Priestly did _not_ _ogle._

Andrea Sachs nettled her. Felt like screaming. Sachs just had an uncanny knack of pushing her buttons to Defcon 1.

Steadying herself, Miranda brushed Andrea away. Her palm brushed Andy's hardness. Taunt toned midsection felt.

''Well Miranda I'm scandalised.'' Andy was taller, grinning broadly. ''You're getting a bit warmer on where my tattoos may be.'' Andy's warm eyes held Miranda's in a playful challenge.

Miranda retracted her hand as far away from Sachs as possible.

Still mad at Andréa yet here they were making Tiramisu. Next to each other. Lucky Sachs. Thankfully not a sharp utensil in sight.

Bickering and bitingly bantered at each other over dark chocolate being grated or shaved for their creation. Compromised eventually.

Andy did have _one _more tattoo she wasn't lying but it wasn't where Miranda was imagining. Just liked messing with her and her uptight propriety.

At least Miranda was looking at her finally, interacting, their evening was actually going better than expected or Andy imagined.

Despite Miranda's misgivings and mistrust. Somehow Andy was going to make _Mir_ return again.

Andy liked that carefree blithe side, the way her eyes danced when she laughed. Recalling when Miranda had playfully splashed her and enjoyed when Andy had chased and clung to her caught.

Andy couldn't resist.

With a dollop of cream and Marsala from the mixing bowl, drew across Miranda's cheekbone like finger paint. Payback for mascarpone.

First shocked how dare you Sachs. Her patrician nose was gently tweaked.

''You've got a little something there.'' Teasingly Andrea's fingertip swept across her velvety cheek, brought it to her mouth. Licked.

''Hmm. I really like this taste.''

Winked at by Andy. ''Not the tiramisu. Miranda.''

Ordered by Mimsie to try what they'd both made after sitting down to a relaxed dinner party of six in Mimsie's conservatory dining room. Toasts and one photo in aprons one without. Mimsie would have copies next class.

''Go on, taste what Miranda and you made.'' Mimsie urged.

Miranda blushed pink, as Andy tried a mouthful obediently, not bad. Watching the curve of her mouth, thought of that poem she'd found in the Book. ''I crave your mouth…

No Miranda you are not craving any part of _lying_ Andrea's anatomy.

Deciding to hold Andrea with her usual cold indifference. Was not forgiven. Would never be.

Their Tiramisu was delicious and delectable to Andy. Downright perfect. Miranda had mainly made it. She could cook. Really, really well. Saw pink tinging Miranda's ivory face.

''I never expected that you _cook _Miranda.''

Her eyebrow raised at Andrea's disbelief and judgement. Implying she wouldn't know how. Defensive. ''I've always enjoyed cooking. Andrea. For my twins and also on rare special occasion.''

Miranda edited Runway Magazine with ease, sophistication and was a dessert making goddess, Andy wondered what other little things would intrigue and delight her, she'd learn with time.

Throwing her silvery head back at laughing with eyes crinkling blithely at Katie's dilemma of Sam not knowing a damn thing about fashion and still wore same worn Levis from college and threw on any old J Crew shirt. Katie giving him a sour look at who he was talking about clothes to. The merits of viyella and comfy fleece to a legend of fashion.

Offered her spoon, did Miranda Priestly just eat off her spoon? This night was getting better and better. No words…just cheese capturing this moment in her mind.

Andy clinked glasses. Enjoying every moment beside the Dragon Lady.


	19. Chapter 19

Pick up. Pick up. Save my life Andy Sachs!

Emily spat out the bloody cotton swabs and slapped away the dentist.

Andy half asleep grabbed her smartphone, half sleepily cursing whoever it was someone better be dead. Groaning as she glanced at the time, nooo not 7:00am Saturday morning of the weekend. Bleary eyed. Pressing receive. Trying to open her eyes.

Whoever was on the other end was talking like they had been socked in the mouth with a hammer. She glanced at the caller ID #1', she really should change her caller ids. That was entered way back when she was #2.

''Slow down Em. I can't understand you.''

Emily Charlton was begging her to do a hugely inconvenient favour. A monumental favour. Emily was just short of grovelling. What in bollocks hell was she supposed to do jump out of the dentist chair and run bleeding gums and all to Miranda's side? Emily closed her eyes willing herself to be charming and everything she was not to Andrea.

If Andrea Sachs did this for her she prayed she would, Emily would stop starving herself into a size two and stop at once her constant belittling of Shamu Sachs.

It wasn't just because of Emily's shrill sobbing hysteria or Andy being a super nice person it was when Emily had said Miranda was sick that made Andy react. Telling Emily. ''I'm there.''

Andy couldn't say 'No' even though she'd planned her weekend to sleep in and begin hibernating under her comfy duvet watching a Netflix marathon of 'The Following' Season 1 and Season 2 and 'Bones', 'The Americans', nope not this Saturday morning as Andy stepped up Miranda Priestly's townhouse stairs of 129 East 73rd. Miranda needed her whether she knew it or not.

Emily had lisped to Andy at her midtown dentist office, in the middle of surgery having wisdom teeth extracted, Haley had food poisoning. Andrea had almost snorted into her pillow. Haley probably had other plans, plans she would not break for a sick pain in the ass boss.

Neither could assist Miranda.

Sheer panicked as if the Fashion District had run out of dress maker pins. _Miranda Priestly never fell ill_. _Never. _

Given a list, Emily snootily IM, Andy fifteen times.

Picked up everything on the complex list. Andy added a few other things into her shopping basket.

Andy never answered Emily's third text that she would need a key.

Andy still had a key. Miranda's townhouse key she'd kept. Not in creepy way, just as a reminder.

A token of remembrance of a certain silver haired Editor when Andy never thought she'd see Miranda Priestly again.

Silly really. Keeping it and not chucking it in the first place the day she returned to the NYC from Paris. Hadn't been able to clear her desk at Runway.

Had once thrown it out, Andy had dug through a garbage bin for it. Couldn't throw it away. Just couldn't. Geez Sachs it was just a metal key.

Still on her keychain next to her recovery medallion.

Andy was hung up on by Emily whose mouth was numb from novocaine, slurring as she told Andy that Miranda's Housekeeper would be back on Monday morning. Simple. Stay with Miranda. Never finished the twins are…

Till Monday. Andy seriously doubted Miranda would welcome her into her townhouse. Andy would be the last person _ever _allowed willingly over her doorstep. Yeah simple, Emily.

Even after last week's cooking class they'd been treading carefully. Miranda being Miranda had Emily have her lawyers send over confidentiality non-disclosure agreements to all present at Mimsie Colville's class to sign wanting their _fake relationship_ kept secret. No leaks to the press or splashed on Page Six.

Didn't want to ruffle Miranda or ruin the little progress she'd somewhat made.

At Runway there wasn't the frosty reception at Andy but there was being kept at arm's length. One of these days maybe Andy could eventually tell Miranda that she hadn't taken Irv Ravitz bribe, in fact had been systematically avoiding him.

Those texts that upset Miranda on the 'I left you at the table date', Andy had never responded to. Hadn't gotten around to deleting them yet.

She'd only taken this job at Runway to be close to Miranda. The _only way_ to be in anyway, near her.

Turning the key.

Andy remembered Miranda's home only as entering it and being invisible, open door, walk stealthy across foyer, place dry cleaning in closet across from staircase and place The Book on table with flowers. Be invisible do not be noticed. Do not talk to anyone. Well she had come a long way from that.

Andy ascended the carpeted stairs, in search of the patient. Her patient.

Which room, Andy opened another door, a closet, she'd already found the study and library overlooking the garden.

A view from glass paned windows that made her drool. Didn't have a clue where Miranda would be. More stairs. Why Not Sachs. Onwards. Exploring the townhouse on a scavenger hunt for The Dragon Lady. Andy almost stepped up one carpeted stair turning as she heard her name called.

''_Andrea!''. _

Expecting Emily. Haley even. Not Sachs. Anybody but her.

'' _What are you doing here? '' _

Arms crossed in a robe, drawn closer around her more. Face to face, wonderful Andrea breaks into your home unannounced and very unwelcomed and you can barely croak out any retort to bite her head off with. Hurt to swallow. Top it off felt and was more than sure looked terrible.

Hissed at by Miranda. ''Did you break in?'' Should call the authorities. Where was Patricia when she really needed her?

Her loyal guard dog to protect her and their townhouse from prowlers like Sachs. Useless dog. All alone here, her beloved St Bernard with the girls at James's for the weekend.

Andy defended. '' _Nooo,_ I had a key. Emily phoned me, she's in surgery. I was worried when I heard you were sick.'' Andy's eyes showed concern. '' I'm here for you.''

Miranda's glassy eyes widened than narrowed. Here for her, here to spy for Irv, use her ill as incompetence lack of dedication. ''Absolutely not. Leave. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.'' Icy waspish tone at Andy. Icy tones sounded more like a harsh raspy bark.

''Andrea I am not sick! ''

Miranda looked pretty ill to Andy.

What was wrong with Miranda, up and about probably working, Andy saw the proof in Miranda's hand, The Book. Must be ill not to get to it Friday evening.

Waving her other hand towards the stairs for Andy to take them and go away. At once.

Yikes sick Miranda Priestly was like daring to touch a snow tiger's toe pads. Plain stupid crazy death wish. Snarled at. Teeth bared.

''Andrea I said leave.'' Both staring down each other.

''No. I'm not. I'm here to take care of you.'' Andy set down a full shopping bag, with her hand tentatively felt Miranda's skin, burning up. ''You have a temperature.'' Andy felt Miranda's flushed forehead. Very warm.

''I'll take you to bed.''

Blue Eyes were wide as distance at Andrea's declaration. _Take me to bed._

Miranda protested the moment Andrea said it. There was no way in hell freezing over, Andrea Sachs was entering her bedroom.

''Need to rest and bring that fever down '' Andy bossed.

Miranda wouldn't hear of it.

Andy breathed through her nose, counting to ten, irritated. '' Just comply for once Miranda.''

Miranda shrugged off Andy's hand. She'd taken Gravol for nausea which also caused drowsiness. Clutching the bannister to keep steady she was indeed feeling weak and queasy but she'd never admit it to Sachs.

When Miranda swayed Andy caught her. ''Fine. I'll just carry you there.''

''You wouldn't dare.'' Miranda waspishly warned Andy who looked dead serious with a look of wouldn't I? Almost scooped up by Andy.

Heard Andy complain. ''Must you always be difficult.''

Miranda huffed at Andrea, she was fine, did not need Andrea Sachs assistance. Flouncing than felt dizzy on the first step. Andy caught her.

Putting her slender hands up in defeat, Miranda gave a weak glare at Andy, never lost or capitulated before and here Andrea was harassing her with goodwill and get well. Why?

Up we go Miranda.

Miranda leaned reluctantly into Andrea's supporting frame. Resigned. Telling herself she was not weak, or fragile or sick and hoping to hell the Andrea would have the decency not to report to Irv. If only she was doing this because she really did care.

_Miranda's Bedroom_

Miranda snappily warned ''I don't want you here. Andrea.''

Andy rolled her eyes, she'd been repeating this all the way upstairs to her.

Miranda hated being sick. Icy blue eyes not working on Andy.

Nope not at all. Heck Miranda could pull a Cerulean face and Andy was staying.

Miranda was stuck with her. No way she'd win and persuade Andy to leave.

Entering together.

Miranda's bedroom was lovely, tasteful and elegant as Andrea set her down onto the bed, pulling down the Yves Delorme bedspread. Hmm cosy for a dragon's lair.

Miranda's stopped Andy's hands with her own from untying her robe. Motioned to turn around. Modesty. Slipping into bed.

Dryly. ''There you've seen me safely to bed now go.'' Why did words hurt so much? The flu always made her voice go. With a pointed look at Andrea.

'' Andrea just leave.''

Andy shook her head, choosing to ignore Miranda, quirked a sympathetic smile, walking into the large bathroom to get a cold washcloth as if she lived here.

Miranda's eyes lilted heavier. Sunk into her large bed. Murmuring out drowsily. ''Thank you.''

Andy placed the cloth onto Miranda's forehead to cool her, touching her silvery hair, brushing the forelock out of Miranda's eye. ''Rest.''

Good Sleepy Comatose Dragon. So much quieter and pleasant when you're asleep.

Left Miranda's bedroom. She'd check on her in ten minutes.

_Downstairs 11am _

Cassidy and Caroline Priestly opened the front door, pulled strongly by Patricia, Mom was going to be so mad at Dad for changing plans at the last minute. Flying to Anguilla with Kimberly on a whim. Mom was going to hit the roof and hopefully they'd only have to see Dad and Kimi at their high school graduation.

Dad had surpassed monumentally messing up at Thanksgiving and their Birthday gift. This was a record. Cassidy and Caroline arrived at Dad's last night early evening and sent back to the city this Saturday morning. Simply slipped Dad's mind and it was Kimi's birthday. Time to frolic and have fun in the sun. Dad made it pretty obvious Kimi was far more important to him than them.

Caroline placed her backpack on the foyer bench. Cassidy followed suit. Patricia on the leash bounded for the kitchen.

Seeing a stranger in their stainless steel fridge. Rummaging through it.

It wasn't Emily or the blonde named Kayleigh or Haley or whatever the new assistant was named.

Home Invader. Cass and Car gulped, what were they going to do. If they had a phone near them, they could desperately try and dial 911 and what tell the emergency operator a burglar is going through Isabella's coveted leftovers and Sunday's meal?

Patricia greeted the intruder, silently trying to motion for their dog to come. By the long fingers they were female. Scratching behind the St Bernard's ears. Great their home intruder was Buddies with their guard dog.

Thanks a lot 'Patty Priestly' try to remember who feeds you. Not the burglar. Well, Mom or Isabella does. Still the twins let their huge gentle giant pet sleep in their beds. Should have got an Alsatian or a Doberman. They wouldn't become Jello with an intruder. Their huge furry giant was a complete pushover, rolling over for the stranger who was ruffling her fur and talking baby talk, Patricia even brought the home invader her toy and wanting belly rubs.

This was bad.

Patricia was love struck, tail thudding against immaculately clean floors, with Breaking and Entering intruder. Giving her chew toy not one of Stephen's addictive shoes meant Patricia was a smitten goner.

Patricia was exuberantly wagging her tail at the person. Cass silently mouthed 'Traitor'.

Worried where was Mom? Was she at Runway? Was she upstairs?

She hadn't sounded good on the phone last night for their customary goodnight call, pushed herself, it was almost like tucking them in over the phone lines.

Cassidy and Caroline had noticed Mom sounded exhausted.

Now someone uninvited was in their home on a long holiday weekend. Why their house and not one of their neighbours? The lawyer with the flashy red car two doors down who represented criminals deserved this.

Like Mr Thuell next door who always tried to speak with Mom on weekends when they were going to the park. He was _so boring_ and completely in adoration of his neighbour Miranda Priestly, you had to be blind not to notice. He dropped everything every time he saw Mom. They had no problem with him being murdered or dismembered.

Car got an idea. Cass looked at her sister imploring not to. Her bright ideas usually backfired. Slipping away quietly. Trying to decide which option was best. Mouthing to her sister. ''Don't leave me.''

Cass was left alone. She inched backwards for the door, knocking over the rollerblading gear beside it. Caro was a slob.

Brown eyes met timid blue.

''Hi ya.'' They didn't look like the eyes of a deranged killer.

Andy greeted one of the Priestly twins congenially considering last she'd seen them, they'd nearly got her fired by pranking her to go upstairs. Be the only assistant in Miranda's employ stupid enough to do so.

''You're Cassidy.''

Backing up. Wonderful a polite intruder who knew her name. Probably ransom them. Her mouth dried. Her imagination running wild. Send an ear or finger or some part of them to Dad in Anguilla, she should tell the would be kidnapper Dad wouldn't pay a cent. Mom had the money. But what if Mom was killed upstairs in her own pool of blood, and they were orphans, damn it Car making her watch those thrillers before bed because Michael Striker liked them. Cass really valued her fingers and ears. If she survived she was never watching another Horror or Thriller again.

Cass saw Patricia muzzle slobber this maybe partially sane, person's jeans. Whining affectionately. ''Ugh, Hey there Patricia.'' Baby talk. ''Are you a good girl. Yes you are.'' Patricia pawed the stranger.

Knows their St Bernard, were they being stalked?

Andy was making soup and pressed a button on the fridge crushing ice, opening a can of gingerale. Pouring it. Multi-tasking with St. Bernard in tow. She didn't seem too dangerous. Maybe just deranged.

Putting the tumbler of gingerale, along with honey and an empty bowl on a breakfast tray. Adding another glass of crushed ice.

What burglar crushes ice? Made soup?

Cass saw the leather jacket slung over their counter, Patricia counter surfed as Andy pushed her down. ''Miranda will have your tail.''

Got down with a whine. Andy wiped her hand from more drool in the sink.

''You know Mom?'' Cass blue eyes showed shock, their Mom did not know people like this.

Mom knew stuck up and snobby. Not someone wearing that. Was that a tattoo and leather jacket? In this neighbourhood.

Jeans and a ribbed white tank top Andy was nothing like the beautifully attired waif assistants that stepped out of Runway pages this Saturday morning. It was a throw on whatever isn't due for the Laundromat. Grab and hope for the best. Humid 94F outside.

''Sure do, I used to be her assistant once. Long time ago.'' Cass took in the friendly stranger's face.

'' I'm Andy or _Andrea _as your Mom calls me.'' Cass almost giggled at the accent showing her braces.

Cass mulled was sure she'd seen her before. Not at their birthday party at the zoo months ago, or at Mom's Christmas Party, Car and her met everybody from Mom's office, could never forget highly strung neurotic Emily, Nigel who gushed insisting they were what, now thirteen.

Gave them 'Sabrina' and 'Roman Holiday' on dvd.

Poor Nigel thankfully went into fashion not arithmetic. Cass knew this person in front of her somewhere. Where though.

Opening a cabinet searching for parsley, Cass pointed it out helpfully. She was sure at home in there kitchen.

Murmured 'Thanks.'

Andy sprinkled some in. Tasted. It was done. Couldn't go wrong with Andy's Mom's chicken soup. She cast a sideways glance at Cassidy, they had matured, hard to believe how much they had grown.

''So Cassidy still reading Harry Potter?'' Clicking she was _that assistant_. The one that did the impossible.

Cass looked amazed and very guilty. Her blue eyes were mirrors of Miranda's. Hard to imagine but was silvery haired Miranda a redhead once, explain the mercurial temperament. Perhaps freckles as well like Cassidy here. Andrea smiled warmly at the thought.

Andy knew she remembered her now. The one who fell gullibly for their prank to go upstairs could still hear innocently how Emily does that all the time with The Book.

''Listen we… I…'' Cassidy remembered how Stephen had been arguing badly to Mom that night, before Andy here had arrived Mom had been taking the brunt of swear words both twins were not ever allowed to say or repeat.

Stephen could be really mean, grabbing her once over ruining his shirt. It had been an accident. Scared her.

Andy had been a convenient fall girl. Made Stephen stop. In a way did her job assisting Mom. She had distracted them both had stopped their loud fight.

Cassidy eyes widened looking behind Andy. Shaking her head frantically ''No Car wait.''

Andy Sachs was struck with a slashing fencing rapier now held aloft. Yelping.

Could have been worse could have been hit with a baseball bat or a field hockey stick or tennis racquet or a frying pan. Or broken her nose. Instead the training foil was at her nostril. Pressed the tip in warning.

''Dial 911.''

''Hey there Caroline.''

As brave as it was defending her twin and Missing Mom wherever she was upstairs, St Bernard and Townhouse, Zorro style, someone was bound to lose an eye, in all likelihood. Andy.

Knew which Baby Dragon inherited Mommy Dragon's temper.

Dropped her blade, the intruder knew her name was Caroline. Tried a judo kick, missed because Cass stopped her.

''Don't hurt Andy. She knows Mom you dork.'' Cassidy got between them. ''She's the one who got Harry Potter for us.'' Caroline face was sheepish.

Patricia just laid there non-plussed by all of it.

Andy felt her chin, one thing she'd never been in, a duel before, involving an eleven year old with a fencing blade.

Caroline and Cassidy were not a bit like what Andy expected, not sullen, manipulative or spoiled rotten and Miranda didn't have them attending dinner and tea parties and playing bridge turning into mini snots yet.

Loved horses, riding and dressage should tell them about her Uncle's horses, listening as she made them lunch, Andy cut the sandwiches in half.

Caroline felt terrible she'd injured the assistant that got them _the Harry Potter Manuscript_. How could she be such a bellicose dweeb? Sometimes her belligerence got the better of her. Kept apologising incessantly.

Andy sort of shrugged it off. Her chin still stung. Tell Lizzie, Monday she got in a duel.

Would she expect a normal greeting from any Priestly? Nah.

''Why are you here?'' Both pairs of blue eyes were curious and expectant. Biting into their sandwiches.

Andy answered succinctly. '' Because I want to be here.''

Shown their room they shared, this was cool, tugged by both twins inside. Andy saw the candid photos of a more relaxed Miranda, touching one at the Beach House, grinned at a few she'd never believe Miranda Priestly would pose for.

Had a tent in their room, invited inside. The twins had so many interests. Needless to say equestrian, science and tropical fish when they'd been to the Caribbean last winter. Told last year had a lot of blizzards, Mom insisted they needed fresh warm air and Vitamin D that sunlight only Copperfield Bay in The Bahamas could supply.

Went for three weeks. Cassy and Car knew it wasn't just a gift for them snorkelling in turquoise waters but a decompression from Stephen. Mom had actually turned her phone off and been well not Miranda Priestly just Mom.

Andy remembered the below zero polar vortex weather quite well, her crummy Landlord cut her heat as her December surprise. Merry Christmas to her.

Cassidy studied Andy who was weighed down by Patricia's head in her lap, Car telling her about a film both had seen at Dad's which was lame.

Kimi had insisted eleven year olds liked _'Barney: Furry Friends'_.

Filled in who Kimi is, shown a photo, Andy understood did their Dad win her from Hugh Hefner or did she come with a side order of Buffalo wings at Hooters? ''Well Caroline I think Kimi here is um…'' Andy was squealed at.

Cassidy and Caroline couldn't believe it.

Shocked Andy could tell them apart. Only Mom can do that. Andy indeed knew which twin was which, Cassidy had more freckles and Car had a slightly longer nose.

Cassidy and Caroline had never met any of their Mom's assistants like Andy. Nothing like Emily. Talked to both of them, listened to what they said, and was genuine.

''We're glad your Mom's friend Andy.'' Car added hesitantly. '' Do you think umm maybe you'd like to be our friend too. Andy?''

Andy grinned. ''Well maybe, suppose if I'm cool enough for you two.''

Nodded eagerly. Promised the best of friends they'd be.

''I have to go check on your Mom.''

_Miranda's Bedroom _

Andy saw Miranda's was shivering, still burning up. Andy had tried cold washcloths on Miranda's forehead, changing it every ten minutes. Andy untied Miranda's robe, averting her roaming eyes Miranda was going to kill Andy if she was coherent.

Miranda must own one of the sheerest nighties Andy had ever seen, couldn't be flannel or something Andy's grandmother would wear. Have mercy Miranda.

No have to be wearing Agent Provocateur Yinka.

Blamed Nigel for it.

Sachs you can handle this, a half-naked Miranda in bed who you're about to give an ice sponge bath to. Sure. Platonic thoughts. Could squeeze her eyes shut and hope for the best.

Andy swallowed dipping the cloth onto Miranda's skin. Trailing coldness, dripping along the delicate fabric, moistening it.

Than Miranda moaned. Andy cursed, Nigel was a dead man Monday if he'd provided this scantily clad nightie passing as so called sleepwear.

Keep it together Sachs, you've been through worse try detox alone.

Miranda was still feverish, arms wrapped around Andy. Pulled into Miranda.

Saying a name maybe. ''Savta.'' Andy would have to google it. Held to in the largest bed, Andy had ever reclined in, had kicked off her shoes when the twins with Patricia at their heels showed their room.

This wasn't exactly how Andy pictured getting into bed with Miranda

''No Miranda not Savta its Andy.'' Running the cloth along Miranda's face, down her collarbone, flushed warm against Andy.

Miranda's eyes dilated. Andy cradled Miranda's face, silvery hair brushed her fingertips. Held to.

The fever broke at 11 at night. Andy gave Miranda lots of liquids to stay hydrated and soup. Andy swore Miranda could puke and Andy still would hold her hair back. There was nothing Miranda could do to lessen Andrea's affection for her.

When she cleaned up, noticed the Blue Morphos in Miranda's room on her vanity. A piece of Andy did rub off on The Dragon Lady. She hadn't thrown all her gifts away. Meant something.

_Monday Morning_

Miranda woke, stretching, her alarm hadn't gone off, the sun was pouring in too bright to be 6am, her blue eyes blinked at the time it was 11:30. 11:30 Monday morning, she'd slept in till this morning. Scrambling up, out of bed. Her silvery coiffed hair a mess. Birds could land in it.

A soft knock interrupted her inner panic, never had Miranda been late to Runway Office. Always punctual. Set a standard of business etiquette. Her smartphone was turned off. Turning it on there were 115 calls mainly from Emily.

Isabella's warm face greeted her.

''Good Ms Miranda, your awake, Ms Andy told me not to disturb you. That you needed to sleep in.''

Dully repeated. _Andy_. Miranda's eyes narrowed. Andy as in Andrea Sachs told her Housekeeper not to wake her early this morning. Some new ploy cooked up by Sachs and Irv.

Isabella beamed. ''Ms Sachs was very insistent and worried for you. She is lovely.''

Miranda frowned. What was Sachs doing here at her Townhouse?

Patricia greeted Miranda, Cassidy and Caroline were back. Told by Isabella. ''Ms Andy left this for you.''

Handed a note. On her Crane stationary. Make yourself at home Sachs why not have a bubble bath in my Master Bathroom Jacuzzi.

Read it.

_Miranda,_

_Hope your better?_

_If not you should stay home. Take the whole day off. Shouldn't push yourself._

Miranda's stared, who was Andrea Sachs to tell her what she should or shouldn't do. Reading Andrea's note

'_Cassidy and Caroline came home unexpectedly Saturday, so I made sure the twins survived. I can promise you Miranda, they were even fed more than tic tacs or sugary cereal with me this weekend._

_I'll walk them to Dalton, this morning. Don't worry about it. No subways or cabs with germs._

_See you at Runway._

_Andy_

Sachs had been here since Saturday, taking care of her daughters and her. Miranda sat down puzzled. Why ever would Andrea want to? Come to her home and be there for her. Was ill with flu.

Sachs was not Emily or Haley. Wasn't paid to be here.

What was she wearing? This wasn't hers. Looking at the label scathingly Miranda Priestly did not wear or own a shirt made by Abercrombie & Fitch in her wardrobe. Yet here she was in a buttoned shirt on her with no recollection of putting it on.

Miranda's realised Andrea Sachs undressed her. Saw her Agent Provocateur Nightie which was now distinctly absent and very much missing from her person. _Breathe in and out Miranda, Sachs saw you naked._ Point was why did Sachs see you naked?

Brushing her teeth in an hour she'd have her answer.

Isabella liked Ms Andy immediately, always had, and could see this person cared about her employer Ms Miranda. Greatly.

Isabella had never seen someone be there for Ms Miranda. Not one of her husbands. Her first husband when Miranda had been home with new born babies avoided his wife all together. That jackass Stephen hardly noticed his wife healthy or not. One time when Ms Miranda had a cold he'd scolded should have got a flu shot.

Isabella had met Ms Andy earlier this morning, been at first surprised as she was coming out of Ms Miranda's bedroom with one of Ms Miranda's nightgown's slung on her arm. Explained everything quietly as they walked downstairs to Cass and Car in the kitchen who were ready for school. Having breakfast Andy had made.

Andy warned don't feed Patricia your muffin Car. Isabella watched the twins interact with Ms Andy. Had stayed for three days and three nights. Looking after Ms Miranda. Andy Sachs fit. Like she belonged here.

Andrea Sachs scribbled a note for Miranda at the counter. Yawning.

If Miranda woke up and wanted Starbucks coffee, she'd get Instant. Be grateful for it, be lucky it wouldn't be draino how tired Andy was. Peering at her reflection in the toaster, looked like she'd been on an Ibiza bender.

Pulling on her jacket, her hair she combed with her fingers, Isabella caught Andy's arm gently. ''Ms Andy you care about my boss don't you?''

Andy stammered startled by the direct question.

Saw it. Lit Ms Andy's eyes what she felt.

Resorting to Spanish that Andy spoke looked at meaningfully by Isabella murmured in wonder. '' Oh so that is why you stayed for Ms Miranda.''

Andy nodded shyly. Tongue tied. Was it that obvious? Didn't just care about Miranda. She loved Miranda. Wasn't about to blurt it out loud.

Just because she loved her Ice Queen Boss didn't mean she had anything worth offering Miranda Priestly.

Isabella looked at Ms Andy kindly. Trying to assure her Ms Miranda needed to know.

Cass and Car didn't understand what Isabella said to Andy. ''Tell Ms Miranda what you feel, for her, how she lights your eyes. ''

Urged. ''Tell her and see what happens. Ms Miranda deserves to know.''

Andy for a moment almost answered never, shaking her head. ''I…I can't.''

Saying those three words out loud was the problem. Be brave or crazy. How would Miranda react? Badly if their first kiss was anything to go by and their first date, Andy glumly concluded. Only imagine what saying _'I love you'_ to Miranda would garner for Andy.

Cass wished she had practised her Rosetta Stone Spanish more. Whatever Isabella had said to Andy made her look first shocked and then stricken.

Left with the twins, who'd never walked to school, first time for everything.

Andy was made to promise by Caroline not tell Mom she stabbed her with her fencing blade. Swore. Under any duress Miranda would never know Andy had been in a duel in her kitchen. Three of them walked along the sidewalk to Dalton.


	20. Chapter 20

_Runway's Offices 17__th__ Floor _

Of course, Miranda hadn't listened to Andy Sachs. Not a simple suggestion meant kindly. Nope.

Blue eyes locked brown eyes. Andy was given a stiff tilt of head to come to her office at once.

''Close my door.''

Miranda was dressed beautifully down to her Beatrix Ong heels considering only a few hours ago Andy had seen her less than perfect. Her silvery hair styled without a hair out of place. Pursing her lips, crossing to her glass desk, sitting down, waiting for Sachs to close her office doors.

Andy wondered was that a bad sign, in all her time at Runway, Miranda never closed her door.

Considerably tense, Andrea had seen her naked, despite the city's smoggy humidity Miranda had chosen a very buttoned up Chanel suit almost deliberately. With Andrea in her presence.

Honestly Miranda it's not like you both were naked. Chiding herself for thinking about Sachs naked with her naked. Cease that thought at once Miranda.

Waspishly to Andrea who sat across from her desk. That tone usually boded excoriating.

''Andrea. I neither invited you to my home or to stay. You are not one of my assistant's.''

Andy frowned at Miranda's lack of gratitude. Andy couldn't believe it, only Miranda would make coming to her home to offer hope as if Andy needed special permission to enter her townhouse.

Or heaven forbid overstepped and committed a hideous faux pas of actually caring about Miranda. What was there some rule Emily hadn't covered.

''Excuse me for caring.'' Standing up over Miranda. Andy looked at Miranda's bent coiffured silvery head.

Real questions plaguing Miranda over Andrea Sachs being her nurse for the weekend. Looked after me and the twins, walked them to school. Not Andrea's job to do so. No doubt gave up her weekend plans for her. Had Irv suggested this as well?

An unease in the pit of Miranda's stomach half hoped this had nothing to with Irving Ravitz.

Miranda wanted to pinch her nose bridge in frustration. Andrea Sachs must have been put on this earth to test her patience, irritate and make her certifiable.

''Let me finish _Andrea please…sit down…_ yet you stayed.'' Looking up at Andrea. Was positive neither Ex Husband would have done the same. Andrea did.

Andy didn't obey Miranda.

'' You remained in my home and were there for me.'' Miranda's mouth quirked unsure. _''Why?''_ her eyes lifted to Andrea's.

Andy read confusion in Miranda's fathomless blue orbs. ''Because I wanted to be there for you.'' Read honest sincerity in Andrea's eyes. Take it or leave it Miranda.

No one ever had been there for Miranda. Shouldn't trust Andrea after lies but a small part of her wanted to. Yearned to. Hoped. Moving around her desk to face her ex-assistant.

Andrea's cheekbone was brushed with a small kiss to it, Miranda's lips felt like the inside of a rose feathering her. It was a quick peck followed by a low softly murmured. ''Thankyou.''

Rubbed Andrea's cheek from lipstick smudge.

Andy resisted the urge to return Miranda's kiss. Kiss her back on her lips. No Sachs baby steps Miranda might, just might trust you a little bit again, no french kissing her to ruin the fledgling trust gained.

Besides Emily would need to be resuscitated if she walked in on Andy Sachs frenching her idol up against her desk. Nope for Emily's sane wellbeing, Andy wouldn't.

Husking out. ''Your welcome.''

Miranda dismissed Andrea. Tingling from her mouth against Sachs skin, lucid blue eyes watched Andrea leave, who almost collided with the door.

Poor Sachs. Really didn't know what came over her and gravity.

_Runway's Offices 17__th__ Floor_

Miranda never was at a loss in gift giving to anyone, always knew exactly what to choose, gift baskets or hampers or hard to get tickets to an event, concert, show. A model of decorum and Emily Post.

Miranda Priestly always repaid her debts.

What for Andrea Sachs would be appropriate? What did Sachs like? What was wrong with you Miranda, should have Emily or Haley select something, anything and be done with it. No. Wanted to do this gift herself. Pick this thank you gift out personally.

Knew very little about Sachs except that night with the stars, try nil, she couldn't very well go poking around in Andrea's office. The Dragon Lady snooping in Andrea's desk would not go unnoticed.

Why couldn't this be easy and impersonal? Sachs wasn't hard to please, went into epic thanks when Haley bought her a Starbucks cheesecake brownie once.

Miranda tapped her chin with tortoiseshell arm of her eyeglasses, what gift would exude a thank you for nursing me when I was sick and be perfect for conveying gratitude for taking care of her and the twins.

At a loss still as Miranda walked over to Haley who handed her coat and bag.

Returning home, Miranda had been greeted by Cass and Car warmly, they'd made it to Dalton by foot without incident. Dinner with her girls, the conversation was all about Andrea, they couldn't stop talking about her.

''Andy this…Andy that…'' Miranda listened to her twins exclaim how Andrea knew which one was which. Miranda was startled, she _only knew_ the difference. Andrea could tell them apart. Really? How?

Told seriously Andy was there friend now as well but Car and Car soundly refused to pronounce their new friend's name _Andrea _like you Mom. It annoys Andy.

Miranda feigned shock it does, does it how terribly irritating for Andrea.

Kissed tenderly goodnight by Miranda, sent upstairs to bed, her Bobseys were very taken with one Andrea Sachs.

Miranda had insisted Emily not bring the Book tonight, Yak Farms in Tibet were quieter, it could be sent digitally via download IPad.

Miranda settled into her bed, hard to forget Andrea Sachs had been in here, her bedroom. Miranda almost chastised herself with thoughts that popped in her head for some inane reason.

What side of the bed did Andrea sleep on? What did she wear to bed or not wear to bed? Miranda! Why on earth would you think any of that of Sachs? Least of all a naked Andrea.

Pulling down her duvet, Miranda noticed Sachs's shirt folded on her bench at the end of the bed. Isabella must have placed it there. Picking it up, inhaling, smelt like Andrea. Liked it. Miranda this is Sachs who lied to you. Irritates you. Encroaches on you and your defences.

You're smelling her shirt.

Hearing a ping of The Book to download, settling into bed. Squinting at her screen, not the Book.

Skype chat request. _A Sachs._

Miranda didn't know why she responded.

It was 10:35pm Andy was hoping she hadn't woken Miranda up.

Andy grinned goofily. Waving merrily. ''Hey, good I didn't want to wake you if you're having an early night.'' Peering into the screen at Miranda.

Andy nervously babbled. ''Which of course you're not because your wide awake.'' Great sound like a complete idiot to Miranda even on Skype.

Miranda answered in reply. ''Good Evening Andrea.'' It appeared her question of what Andrea wore to bed was answered by the sight of Sachs in a cut off t-shirt and boy shorts.

''So I was just checking up on you.'' Andy brown eyes softened.

Miranda adjusted her IPad to study Andrea. ''I was wondering since I'm a friend with Cassidy and Caroline now and one awesome very beautiful though her kisses are a bit overeager and one of a kind but Andy Sachs takes what she can get.''

''Andrea please I'm not comfortable…'' Interrupted by Andy. '' I was talking about Patricia.'' Earned a snort from Miranda. Thought she meant her kisses.

'' So with your permission I'd like to take the girls out on Saturday.'' Miranda pondered.

Andy's puppy dog look and pleading with The Dragon Lady to let the little dragons go. Cut the ties a bit. Get out there and breathe fire on their own. In Andy's opinion if Car brought her fencing blade they'd be safe against any possible muggers.

''Please Miranda, it's not like I'm taking them to Nunavut or Mogadishu it just to a summer fair at the park.''

Miranda smirked with mother intuition, the twins had been trying for weeks to convince her to take them to it. A Summer Fete or Fair as Andrea was calling it.

Miranda knew without any doubt Cass and Car had found an unwitting sidekick who without their Mom nearby would let them have copious amounts of cotton candy and god forbid hot dogs. Trying to win prizes at childish games.

Reasoning Andrea had been with them on the weekend and nothing bad happened to her daughters.

'' Fine Andrea but only if I join you three.''

''Okay it's a date.'' Andy blurted out.

Miranda blinked. A date! An afternoon spent with Andrea and her twins she wasn't adverse to, could be a pleasant excursion. Possibly.

''Well a… Goodnight Miranda.''

''Wait Sachs…would you like… only if you want to... I am not forcing you to or anything…you don't have to feel compelled to accept.'' Miranda was rambling. The Dragon Lady never rambled.

What was Miranda Priestly trying to say to Andy?

Miranda hastily spat it out. _''WouldyouliketohavedinnerherewithmeFridayNightat8__:__30''_

''Huh?'' Andy questioned. ''What were you asking me?''

Miranda Priestly couldn't believe she was nervous asking Andrea to dinner. This is Sachs she was asking out. Inwardly should have had Emily or Haley get a Godiva Chocolate Basket for Sachs to gorge on. They'd be somewhat even.

''I was asking if you'd like to have dinner with me? Friday at 8**:**30. Here at the house or perhaps 'Jean-Georges' on Central Park West.''

Miranda didn't give Andrea time to answer her. Taking Andrea momentarily drawn out silence as a sign of not wanting to dine with her. ''If you don't want to have dinner with me or have other plans your under no obligation to accept.''

Trailing off embarrassed why did Sachs make an invitation seem so hard to extend. _Say something Andrea._

''If your busy its fine it's just a thankyou dinner for being there for me and Cassidy and Caroline.'' Andrea not answering was making her feel like a fool in offering something personal and intimate. It seemed Sachs riled her, drove her crazy with silence even.

Andy was shocked. Mouth dry, Miranda wanted her to come over for dinner with her. That would be wonderful. Maybe she'd finally tell Miranda how she felt after of course Sachs seduction and swallowing two glasses of liquid courage.

Geez Sachs wake up and quit daydreaming and give Miranda your answer.

''Andrea. Yes or No?''

Miranda chided herself, why had she opened her mouth and offered this, it was just a dinner invitation with Sachs not a marriage proposal or picking out china.

If Andrea didn't want to accept did not have to be so impolite to her. The deafening silence obvious that she was trying to think of a plausible excuse to decline.

Andy grinned. ''I'd love to have dinner with you. If it's not inconvenient your place. Should I bring anything?'' Miranda shook her head.

Miranda liked how Andrea's smile could be infectious even over the screen. ''Very well I shall see you Friday night here at the townhouse. 8:30.''

Miranda noticed the inbox showed her The Book had arrived. Ignoring it.

Wanted to talk longer to Andrea. The Book could wait. If she didn't survey and notate tonight it wasn't the end of the world.

Andy was shocked was Miranda Priestly, Editor-in-Chief of Runway putting aside The Book _for her._

Miranda nestled more into her bed, her eyes shimmering like jewelled sapphires as if in challenge for their pillow talk to begin. ''_Andrea,_ Talk to me.'' Sort of like crawling into bed with Miranda.

They talked almost all night, likes and dislikes, surprisingly they didn't clash, amusing Miranda with stories of her childhood. Teased over one classic film 'what's black and white '? Andy assured her. ''I'm kidding Miranda.''

Than Andy boldly asked Miranda a question that off kiltered her.

''Miranda when you were sick you said a name over and over again. _Savta._'' Curious at who _Savta_ was.

Miranda's swallowed, dreading what else she'd said feverish to Andrea Sachs. Don't let me have revealed how my father hated me. Because I took my mother's life to live.

Andy retracted could see something upset Miranda greatly.

''Sorry I…didn't mean to upset you.''

Miranda didn't know why but she answered Andrea's question. ''Savta means Grandmother. That's who raised me.''

Andy mouthed an ''ooh'' crossing a line as she asked. ''Your parents weren't…um able to.'' Andy didn't know much if anything about Miranda's past. Wished she did.

Miranda sneered at Andrea's concern, The Dragon Lady showing her talons. ''Some of us weren't raised like the lost siblings of the Brady Bunch.'' Hey Andy was not cookie cutter Jan or Marcia.

Andy ignored La Priestly's bite.

''Okay Miranda tell me something of your childhood your happiest memory.''

Miranda bit her lower lip, happiest memory from her childhood that was quite a feat. Try wretchedly unhappy scraping by and squalid. Didn't care to revisit any of her memories...

''Andrea I…''

Andy urged Miranda to share something, anything with her.

''Only fair Miranda since I've shared my moments, now you have to.'' Andrea's warm words of her childhood with parents and holidays charmed Miranda but her past family moments were nothing like that.

Some now were, but those were with Cassidy and Caroline what she made for the twins were firsts for her as well.

''Where did you grow up?''

Miranda quietly answered. ''London.''

Andy started asking loads of questions. Questions Miranda wouldn't pick up on.

''What was child Miranda like? Bet you were the exact same but little, I'd love to see childhood photos?'' Andy smirked proof Miniature Dragon same haughty glare. Presumed teachers were terrified of her.

Why did Andrea have to push and ruin _this_ by wanting to know more? Had to pry. Had to push. Unravel. Couldn't leave it well alone, Sachs could you?

Miranda snapped. '' I can't tell you one happy moment, because I don't have one.''

Fine if Sachs continued to persist with questions and really wanted to know.

Dangerous waspish tone to Andrea who'd asked for it. ''My childhood and home.'' Miranda bit these words out cruelly. As if each syllable was cut glass.

'' Andrea you want to know was it comfy and cosy and syrupy sweet like yours. No. Was I hungry? Very. Neglected aside from my Savta very much. If you must know more my Grandmother raised me because my father couldn't stand the very sight of me.'' Miranda softly spoke each word like a knife.

'' Let's see let me not be remiss in sharing I never received a gift for my birthday ever. I couldn't wait to leave my happy little abode when I was sixteen.''

Sachs had to dredge old buried memories up. Sixteen year old Miriam Princhek was resolute when she'd left her home. Never looked back.

Like an exquisitely couture dress created Miranda Priestly with time.

Andy listened intently. Wished she could reach out and hold Miranda tonight. ''I'm sorry, you weren't… that they… never showed you how you deserve to be loved and cherished. '' Shimmering tears for her.

Miranda saw Andrea was crying for her. For her. She wasn't worth her tears. Survived. Endured. Why was Andrea Sachs like captured sunshine bottled. Why did she always touch Miranda with its radiance?

Andrea once again pricked into her icy reserve. '' If you could have one gift you really wanted from your childhood what would it be?''

Raised a silvery brow, muttering ''This is ridiculous Andrea.''

''No. No it's not.'' Andy doggedly asked again. '' Anything Miranda.''

Miranda shook her head at the absurdity. '' Fine, I don't know why I'm sharing this with you…''

Andy interjected encouraging. ''Tell me.''

''I don't see why you need to know this.'' Warned Andrea icily. ''If you laugh.'' Giving a look of one chortle or guffaw made would be received direly.

''My word no laughter.'' Andy swore.

Miranda hadn't exactly held back her laughter at Andy's Christmas day disappointment of her cousin Skip relabeling her Santa gift a coveted Jedi lightsaber and not just any lightsaber a Return of the Jedi Luke Skywalker one and getting stuck with bunny pjs complete with ears as an inflicted traumatic experience. When it's photographed.

Andy had a vindictive side next year Skip got a drink and wet baby doll like Betsy Wetsy and Care Bear pjs. Santa must have got mixed up. Promised she wouldn't laugh at Miranda and she wouldn't. Honest.

''When I was 7, I use to pass a store window and since we couldn't _afford_…never went into it for anything, I use to be pulled along but one time my Savta wasn't well so I had to go on errands, on my own, so not being told no, I entered the store.'' Miranda remembered the trepidation of disobeying just once.

''It was probably now not as grand as I thought it was, I was shivering from the rain storm I was caught in, I've always had a frail constitution, the shop owner noticed me bringing in puddles of the monsoon with me, was quite nice about encountering a drenched child. Gave me tea, offered me candies which I wasn't very keen on, liquorice and toffee rot teeth.''

Andy swallowed a snort leave it to seven year old Miranda to endorse cavity warnings. Probably lecture the Easter Bunny that chocolate gives zits.

''Very kindly proceeded to show me some of the stores treasures which I was transfixed by one thing.'' Had Andrea's complete attention. ''It was a cage with a pair of doves in it. Both all pure white side by side and pecking each other's beaks cooing.''

Andy interrupted. ''Oh you liked magic.''

Testily. ''No.'' Miranda eyes shimmered with blue fire. ''I at the time thought they were the most beautiful creatures I'd seen. Do you know doves mate for life.''

Andy shook her head she didn't know that.

'' I once would have liked them for my birthday…I was seven… that and a copy of 'A Little Princess' well that's enough of silly wishes.''

Signing off at 2:45 in the morning.

''Goodnight Miranda.''

Miranda bid a good night to Andrea who'd half yawned.

Andy couldn't wait for Friday with Miranda.

_Friday Night 8:30pm Priestly Residence_

Andy held the bagged items it took her two trips, to an out of the way specialty shop in Jackson Heights and a shop on West 37th St to locate it and along with a bottle of wine, Andy knew one doesn't come to Miranda Priestly front door empty handed. Remember to breathe Sachs.

Rang the bell of 129 East 73rd.

Miranda heard the doorbell, told Car and Cass to get it. Upstairs appraising her choice, wanted this to be a wonderful evening, just hoped Andrea understood a change in plans. Heard Andrea greet the twins warmly.

The twins tugged Andy's arm to guide her into the living room, stopped Andy saw them peering at her bags. Grinning at Cass and Car. ''Go ahead they're for both of you.'' Given one bag. Set one aside. Miranda's.

Pulling out two plastic bags of tropical fish. ''Wow! Andy!'' Gushed thanks. ''There Queen Angelfish. I have no idea if there Bahamian.'' Andy was pleased Cassidy and Caroline liked them, looked similar to the fish in their underwater snorkelling photos the twins seemed to love it.

Included a small tank and a how to care for book.

Oblivious to when Andy motioned with the wine bottle, she'd just make her own way to the kitchen wine chiller.

Stopping in her tracks. Who the hell was this?


End file.
